As You Sow, So Shall You Reap
by TickyPik
Summary: Sequel to Down the Rabbit Hole: Alice grapples with the emergence of her new powers as the apocalypse looms on the horizon. Decisions, risks, and gambles. She must work with the Winchesters in facing against the Devil. Castiel/OC
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

Once upon a time, long ago, there lived a budding civilization of humans. Having taken millions of years to evolve into functioning and thinking creatures, this species still had a long way to go before they were able to reach the thriving and audacious beings they have become today. They were still fragile, still ignorant, still terrified.

However, there were a certain few, a gifted few, who existed apart from humanity's first bumbling mass of insecurity. These few, though alike in human appearance, were so intrinsically different.

Born from the very Earth itself, and mothered by nature, they developed a natural affinity with what the humans grew to call the magical arts. These gifted beings were able to harness the power and the energies of the planet and bend them to their will. They knew all the secrets of life and the mysteries of death. They could communicate with the spirits of past and future at leisure. So long did stretch their lives and youth, and as vast was their age, so was their benevolence. While these beings lived nursed and coddled by the opulent nature the humans would fear, they began to sympathize with the pitiful creatures.

Leaving the safety of their haven, the ethereal beings revealed their immaculate selves to the humans, offering many gifts. They taught the humans ways to thrive in their environment, knowledges of medicine and science, wisdom of life and the exoneration of death. They were teachers, mediators, and bridges between the mortal world and realms of the next. They spoke with angels and soothed the creatures who crept in the night. Witnessing their awe-inspiring powers, the humans bestowed the beings with the title _Wikkōn_ , beings of sacred and obscure origin. The _Wikkōn_ were so loved, so worshipped, and while they lived among the humans, they were happy, humanity was happy… for the moment.

It was not long before the _Wikkōn_ grasped the frightful speed at which humans learned, and not a few hundred years later, they realized humanity was no longer the feeble lambs they had first encountered. Flourishing with the knowledge given to them, the human population grew exponentially, traversing further across the planet, expanding their territories. Yet, even as their capabilities grew, the human consciousness was still so small. Miniscule disagreements grew to larger arguments. Ideals and emotions clashed. Soon after, violence and discontent wrought forth the impending spread of war.

The _Wikkōn_ tried to intervene, they tried to reason, but they were shunned at every turn. This was a human matter, the mortals said, the beings had no right to interfere. And so they obeyed. Recognizing that their roles as leaders were over, they quietly retreated back to their secluded domain, keeping their influences from the human affairs. Nonetheless, there were still humans who relied on and believed in the wisdom of the _Wikkōn_. For the willing few that readily sought help, they were glad to give it. As the years rolled on, the willing seekers came less and less, until the existence of the beings were but a rumor through the grapevines.

Then, Lucifer smiled. Having watched the humans with festering envy as they prospered under the protection of the _Wikkōn_ , he finally saw his chance to sow the seeds of calamity. Adopting the shape of a Wiseman, he once again revealed the existence of the _Wikkōn_ to the masses. He told the humans of their incredible powers, of how they could destroy all that humans have built in an instant should they desire, and that while the _Wikkōn_ lived pampered by their intellect and wealth, there were so many humans who lived in poverty and disease. And the humans listened, so easily were their beliefs swayed. Riled with greed, envy, and contempt, they raised arms to invade the homes of the _Wikkōn._

As beings of peace, violence and cruelty were not familiar subjects for the _Wikkōn_. But oh, did they learn. Wrenched from their homes, the _Wikkōn_ pleaded and begged. They wished no harm on the humans, and they would be glad to share all that they knew with them. But these words would fall on deaf ears for the human hearts were already so twisted with dark desires. Overtime, the _Wikkōn_ title was abandoned and lost. To the humans, they were now _Witches_ , creatures of morbid and perverse abilities. They were burned, tortured, massacred. In order to escape a similar fate, the _Wikkōn_ who still retained their clarity fled to the realm of _Fata_ , the world of faeries. One by one they escaped until a sole _Wikkōn_ stayed: a young immortal by the name of Lyss, who continued her efforts to placate humanity.

So the hunt for the _Witches_ continued, and the age of humanity took a dark turn. After years of sadistic brutality, a stirring darkness grew within the hearts of certain _Wikkōn_ , changing them, tainting them. Pained and ravaged by humanity's betrayal, they decided to welcome the new title. If morbid depravity was what the humans expected, then so shall they receive. Swallowed in malevolence, the dark _Wikkōn_ unleashed their vengeance on the masses, decimating their population. Disease, drought, famine, and death. The humans writhed in fear and torment. It was the end, they believed, for they have provoked an enemy far beyond their might.

Lucifer sat back and watched with reverie at his handiwork. The humans were in disarray and the _Wikkōn_ had lost their trust in humanity. Without their protection, ending the feeble species would only be a matter of time. Or so the devil had thought.

Horrified by what the _Wikkōn_ have become, Lyss interceded. Vowing to protect her world and all that lived in it, she beseeched her brethren to return to her aid. Together with the few _Wikkōn_ who gathered, they climbed to the very first mountain of fire and swore their oaths. Using the blade forged by Heaven's fire, each of the _Wikkōn_ carved a symbol of their fealty into their soul, taking up the mantel of being Earth's protectors. Resolute in their task, these new guardians flew into battle, obstructing the tainted beings from their chaotic path. The battle of Immortals lasted a full turn of the moon, and after much heartbreak and toil, the _Wikkōn_ were able to vanquish their darker half. But, despite all their efforts, the damage was done. Humans had coveted and learned the anguished powers of the dark _Wikkōn_ , and set to use them for their own purposes.

The brothers of Lucifer, the archangels, had discovered his plan and watched as he wreaked havoc on Earth. No longer able to sit idly by as he destroyed their _Father's_ beloved creations, they set forth to put an end to Lucifer's misdeeds. With the acquiescence of their _Father_ , the archangel Michael descended from Heaven to engage his younger brother in combat. The angels called upon young Lyss, to lend her powers when the clash would commence.

Mindful of his brother's intent, Lucifer breathed life to a creation of his own as a means of insurance. Lilith, he called her, his first child. Imbuing the creature of darkness with her first mission, he set off to meet Michael. As the two angels stood against one another at the precipice of what was once Eden's Valley, Lyss raised the planet's forces from its soil and erected a barrier around the valley. When the combat between Michael and Lucifer broke out, it took all of what she and the other angels had just to keep the hailstorm of their powers contained. Earth and its inhabitants have suffered enough. After a fortnight, Lucifer was finally struck down. The angels lowered their barrier, and the young protector prepared the final incantation. With her gifts, she opened a void to a realm of nothing, positing the abyss as what will be the devil's prison. With a final blast, Lucifer was hurled into his cage. At the moment of his passage, he sent Lyss a parting gift. In the oversight of lowered defenses, Lucifer hurled a corrosive attack with malignant vivacity. The assault landed, and immortal as Lyss may have been, the attack from Lucifer was cursed, and it began to erode her physical body. Knowing her soul was bound to Earth through her vows, she requested the angels prepare and protect her coming incarnation. She would send her soul into the empty body of a growing human fetus until she became strong enough to shoulder the burden of being a protector once more. But this plan would never come to fruition.

On a starry night, when the moon was full, a young mother was humming softly to her growing belly. She was the one, the angels had decided, who would bring Lyss back into the mortal world. Yet, on that same night, humanity would experience its very first demonic possession, an experience so vile and unfathomable even the angels had no way of preventing what was to come. In the hours of twilight, Lilith forced her way into the body of a recent grieving mother. In her sorrow, her heart was ripe with openings and was easily swayed by Lilith's dark whispers. With a firm grip over the human body, the demoness stole into the house of the soon to be mother. Standing over the bed of the sleeping woman, Lilith could feel the budding _Wikkōn_ growing within her. Raising her dagger up high, she plunged the savage blade into the belly. As the woman screamed in her tortuous wake, Lilith reached into her womb and wrenched out the still forming child. With an elated cry of dark satisfaction, the demoness wrung the life from its fragile form and uttered a final curse towards the Heavens. When the angels finally broke through the celestial warding, they struck Lilith with petrifying retribution, rendering the body to ashes. But the slippery demoness had already fled. The angels looked on at the scene before them, weighed down by their failure and the loss of an innocent. The chosen mother had already breathed her last, her life spilling out of her center and painting the sheets of her bed with crimson. Lying not far away from her was the writhing grotesque figure of what would be a human child. The pitiful creature wheezed out its looming end in small startling gasps. Lyss soul, however feeble, latched onto life. And with one final burst of power, she casted a spell of her own, sending the wave of energy to the closest angel.

Then, all was silent. Lyss was gone, no trace of her soul could be found. The angels searched and searched. The other _Wikkōn_ searched and searched. None could find her.

And the young _Wikkōn_ , her soul cursed and bound, was lost among the sea of mortals. With no memories of what she was or what she had to do, she was born again and again, living and dying as a human.

Until six thousand years later, the lost soul settled into the body of a fatally sick infant.

…

With no choices left, a drug abusing young girl of 17 carried a crying bundle in her arms. She paced through the streets at night in the midst of winter. Reaching the closest nursery, she laid her dying child on the doorstep. As she knocked on the door, she bent down to kiss her forlorn baby one last time. When the lights within the nursery turned on, she quickly tightened the wrapping on her baby's blanket, the blanket sewed with the name Alice, and disappeared back into the streets.

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	2. The Awakening

It's like being in limbo, Castiel thinks.

…

When the angel had stood next to the prophet, determined in his decision to hold back the archangels, he was willing to offer his life for the cause without remorse. Or least, he did. As Raphael and his squadron of angels tore down towards him, Castiel felt a moment of weakness, a moment of regret. When the archangel arrived, Castiel had gripped onto his blade, staring brazenly into the eyes of his executioner. Had the spark of distress not been ignited by the words and actions of a single immortal girl, the rebel angel would have been content. But now, even as he tried fruitlessly to fight against his clearly stronger opponent, even as his existence began to burn away, Castiel could not help but hear the echo of the immortal's words, pleading that he return to her alive. In the moment before he was obliterated, he wished that he could.

…

Then something of an oddity happened. The edges of Castiel's consciousness was pooling back. No longer did he feel suspended in nothingness. He could sense and feel things again. Smells, noises, and the air. He opened his eyes.

Castiel looks around his surroundings, having found himself lying in the middle of a field miles away from anywhere. He tries to recall the events that transpired after his annihilation, attempting to find the link that may have led him here. He furrows his brow in confusion. Rapahel had most definitely destroyed him. He remembers the sensation of burning from the inside and the acute ripping of detonation. Jimmy Novak, the original host of his body was screaming out in agony. Castiel's thoughts halt.

Jimmy.

His frown deepens as he scours his mind for the host's soul. …Nothing. The angel sighs in realization. Jimmy is gone. Of course, he is. Raphael had disintegrated the body. Any chance of the devoted salesman reuniting with his family on Earth is now nil, and Castiel knows the blame falls on him alone. The edges of his lips twitch downward. Closing his eyes, he shakes himself of the damning thoughts. Whatever the consequence, he'll pay. There are more important matters to attend to. Foremost, how is he alive? It should not have been possible to escape Rapahel, let alone being completely unscathed as he is.

And then it hit him. Castiel looks towards the sky, awash with reverie.

It was God who had brought him back. His father had not abandoned him. His decision to fight with the Winchesters must have been the righteous choice.

With renewed purpose, Castiel closes his eyes in a silent prayer of sincere gratitude. Taking in a deep breath, he casts his gaze once more across the barren field before turning in the direction of the convent. First thing's first. He must find Alice and the Winchesters.

Touching down at the hollow halls of the abandoned monastery, Castiel quickly walks to the room oozing with tumultuous energy. Standing at the entrance's edge, he scans the aftermath in the chamber. Near the base of a crumbling altar is the charred remains of what used to be human. The angel narrows his eyes at the form, drawing in the leftover residue of the creature's essence. He surmises the ashes must have been Lilith's host. His eyes then carry to the dark smudging trail drawing a spiral towards the center on the stone floor. Castiel's jaw tightens, his throat feeling immensely dry. He could almost taste it. Alice's vibrant energy mixed with the excess of the ominous symbol. But what concerns him more is the gnawing darkness that hangs in the air, a festering void so ravenous it can only be from one creature.

Castiel turns his head towards the east, flinging his awareness outwards in search of the two hunters' location. Latching onto their energies, he propels himself in their direction. Speeding across the landscape, he catches wind of Zachariah's presence, his previous superior, and a few of his subordinates.

Previous superior, Castiel muses. The thought seems oddly freeing.

The angel plunges right into the middle of the fray, positing himself between the Winchester brothers and the opposing angels. Taking out his blade, Castiel wastes no time in eliminating his enemies. Despite being angels, despite being supposedly brothers, these men are standing against the will of God, and he feels it is now his duty to right this wrong. Sliding the edge of his blade out of his opponent's heart, Castiel turns his attention to the final adversary in the room.

Zachariah regards him with stark disbelief. His expression is mimicked on the faces of the two hunters, albeit mixed with the pain of torture.

The older angel leans back from the younger rebel. "How are you-"

"Alive?" Castiel finishes dryly. "Good question." He gestures towards the two hunters lying ragged on the floor. "How did these two end up on that airplane? Another good question. Because the angels didn't do it." He narrows his eyes. "I think we both know the answer don't we?"

Zachariah's eyes widen, his gaze trailing to the floor in denial. "No…. That's not possible."

Castiel exhales, burning with righteous fury. "It scares you. Well, it should. Now put these boys back together and go. I won't ask twice."

The balding man stares at his former subordinate warily, then retreats with a flutter of wings.

Sam and Dean fumble on the floor, the previous stabbing pain within their bodies gone without a trace. They quickly stand up, still trying to process the last few moments.

Castiel takes a step forward. "You should be more careful."

Dean shifts his weight to his other leg, shaking himself of the torture he just experienced. "Yeah, I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks that I thought."

"I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel, and once he takes it those hex bags won't be enough to protect you." Taking another step, Castiel places his hands onto the chests of both men. He pushes a surge of energy through his palms, and the two hunters lurch when the power hits them.

Dean groans, holding onto the place where Castiel burned him. "What the hell was that?"

"An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer."

"What, you just brand us with it?"

"No, I carved it into your ribs."

There is a look of discomfort on the brothers' faces, but they accept the gesture regardless.

"Hey, Cass," Sam starts. "Were you really dead?"

"Yes."

The two men regard the angel once more, studying his form.

It dawns on Dean that he had demanded Castiel help them at the cost of his life. The cost by which the angel paid so quickly and readily, and Dean didn't even realize it. He decides to focus his thoughts on something less guilt-ridden. "Then how are you back?"

At the hunter's words, Castiel begins to feel a grain of doubt. Only moments ago, he was so sure of his new found purpose. But what if there is a chance that he's wrong? Once, he had believed so fervently in the divine guidance of his superiors as well. Is he fated to repeat this? Had it not been Dean and Alice who first helped incite the uncertainty in him?

Alice.

He looks away from the Winchesters. He needs to see her now. Without bothering to answer Dean's question, the angel leaves. By the time Castiel is in the air, the two brothers are already forgotten. He searches the Earth for her presence, and a signal immediately beams in his awareness, a beacon blaring out her location. The angel draws his lips into a thin line. He must remove the mark Uriel burned into her. There's no way of knowing what new plans the other angels may have for her. Closing in on Alice's energy signature, he realizes it's coming from Bobby Singer's house. Castiel dives into the humble abode and lands outside the entrance to the vault. He stares quizzically at the iron door. He can feel Alice's presence, but there is something odd about it. The energy radiating from her soul, it's different somehow. Castiel steels himself. He wanted to see the girl, and now he's here. Whatever injury she may have suffered he'll heal it. Placing his hand on the metal handle, the angel pulls the door back. He stands frozen at the sight in front of him.

Instead of the usual rusting dark of metal and the rhythmic whipping of the fan above, the vault is now teeming with green and plant life. Crawling across the circular walls are violets and reds of honeysuckle and clematis. What was originally the dusty flooring is now covered with bellowing soft moss, erected with patches of lush grass and bunches of chrysanthemums hugging the vault's waist. If Castiel had not seen the previous state of the iron chamber, he would have thought Bobby had been keeping a secret garden in his basement. The angel's eyes finally rest on the figure enfolded in the branches of a small twisting willow which arches towards the ceiling from the center of the room. Despite the green vines spilling like a curtain over her form, he can still make out glimpses of her appearance. In place of the usual cropped black hair pushed back in a wild and impromptu manner, extensive straight silver locks flow down across the mossy ground. Her skin, though shadowed before the foliage now carries a translucent glow. Only her jeans and jacket remain the same.

All around the girl, the air dances, humming with vitality.

Castiel angles his head, trying to get a better look. "Alice?"

The figure within the tree stirs. Two shining pools of gold appear from beneath her eyelids.

"Castiel…"

The angel is silent. Although he recognizes it to be Alice's energy, Alice's scent, and Alice's voice, there is something changed about every one of those aspects. "Who are you?"

With a gentle movement of the girl's wrist, the curtain of vines pull back, revealing the full of her form. It is an exact reflection of Alice, with a few unearthly changes.

Castiel stands rooted to the ground. His head pounds, beating within the walls of his mind is something screaming at him to remember. He is stricken by the sense of nostalgia, and pained by his inability to recall why.

The Alice look-alike examines the angel. With a sympathetic look on her face, she speaks. "You don't remember, do you?"

The ring of her voice only amplifies the thundering in his head. "What don't I remember?" He grits his teeth from the pain. "Where's Alice?"

The girl steps down from her cradle and walks towards Castiel with a raised hand. The angel takes a step back, unsure of her actions.

"I'm sorry." She offers him an apologetic look. "The call in your head. It must be painful. I can take it away, if you'd like."

Castiel stares at her with a grimace. "Alice." The girl still hasn't told him what he wants to know.

The girl nods, ceding. "Alice is asleep. I am Lyss, a previous incarnation of her, the first incarnation. I exist from the deepest reaches of her memories, awoken when Lucifer broke from his cage. He had tried to trap us. If Alice did not invoke her memories of me as she did, our situation may be even less fortunate." Lyss reaches out her hand again. "If you would let me touch you, I can take away the call."

Weighed by the clamoring in his brain, Castiel decides to accept the girl's proposition.

Lyss touches her hand to the angel's face, and he immediately jolts from the contact. Unlike the hair-raising tingle of Alice's touches, this one reminds him of being burned by hot iron. But the feeling does not stay. As her fingers linger, he could sense the pounding begin to ebb away, drained in the direction of Lyss's hand. After a few moments, his mind feels completely at ease, even the stinging burn of her skin is gone, replaced with the warm softness of a girl's caress. Lyss pulls back her hand. "How do you feel?"

Castiel blinks, gazing down at her. "It's gone. What did you do?"

Satisfied, Lyss retreats from him. Sighing, she steps back towards the willow. The branches reach out and bow, curving into a comfortable seat as she lowers herself onto them. Lyss keeps her gaze on the ground. "You don't remember this, but you were one of the angels sent to protect me. After the battle between Michael and Lucifer, I created the abyss that would seal Lucifer-"

"You were the one who made his cage?" Castiel cuts in incredulously. His face then morphs with suspicion. "What exactly are you? I had previously thought you were a human turned immortal, but this doesn't seem to be the case."

Unfazed by the interruption, Lyss nods. "The origin of our existence is unclear even to our own kind. All we know is that we were created from the planet's ether, and the humans came to call us _Wikkōn_. Unknowingly, we were the ones who led them into learning what they believe as magic. Witches, is the term, I believe." The girl lets out a grieved sigh before resuming. "It was a request of Michael's. He couldn't bear to kill his own brother, despite all that he's done. And I agreed." She waits for him to accept her explanation. When Castiel is silent, she continues. "Before the void closed, Lucifer cursed me. He destroyed my physical body, but because I had imbued myself with the mark made by Heaven's Sword, my soul was bound to Earth. I couldn't experience the same passing on as the other beings." Lyss takes a momentary pause, allowing Castiel to drink in her words.

"You're talking about the mark of Tyteris. The sword was soon destroyed, wasn't it?"

Lyss nods again. "It was created so we could carry out the ritual of becoming guardians. So once our oaths were made, the sword had accomplished its purpose, and it was melted away."

The angel tips his head, awaiting the rest of her story.

"The angels helped prepare the vessel that I would be born to next, but before I was fully developed, Lilith killed the birth mother. She then placed a curse on my soul, sealing away my powers and memories so that I would be lost among the mortals." She passes an almost coy glance at the angel. "And that's where you come in."

Castiel knits his brows, prompting her to elaborate.

"You and another angel arrived just as Lilith finished her curse. You destroyed her host, but she was able to escape before then. As a last resort to counteract what she had done to me, I sent a piece of myself, a piece of my soul to the closest living being I could find." Lyss studies the angel's expression. "Which was you."

Castiel lifts his head, the memories of when he first met Alice, the clamoring that thundered in his head, and the constant aching familiarity that pestered him to no end, all of these recollections come flooding back, settling in neat junctions like puzzle pieces through the directions of Lyss's recount.

Lyss bows her head. "I did not mean to burden you with a piece of my soul all this time. I had hoped that with it, you would be able to locate me. The fragments of my soul would always call to each other, and when I become whole again, Lilith's seal would break and I would have retained all my powers and memories." Lyss trails off, casting her eyes to the ground again. "But in the end, your memories were taken away, though I'm sure your superiors had a valid reason…."

Castiel's jaw turns rigid at that.

"I am instead woken by Lucifer himself, and it will take still much longer before Alice is ready to accept my powers and consciousness."

"I'm sorry."

Lyss is taken aback. "Why are you apologizing?"

The creases between his brows deepen. "It's as you said. If I was charged with your protection, then I failed. I should have prevented Lilith from killing your vessel's mother, even more, I should have prevented her from placing that curse on you."

The silver haired girl shakes her head. "The blame does not lie with you. If I had been more careful of Lucifer's tactics, none of this would have happened. No one knew he was capable of creating demons. Lilith was the first of her kind, a creature not I or the angels have ever encountered before. And now, because of my naïve hope that Lucifer and Michael would one day reconcile, Lucifer has broken free of the abyss and still intends to finish what he started on Earth."

Castiel considers everything he's learned for a moment. "But, if you're here now. Can't you create another cage for Lucifer?"

Lyss raises a hand to the passing light beating against the turbine and examines it. "If it was six thousand years ago, and I still had my original body, yes. Right now, my existence is but a memory fragment buried within Alice's mind. I am merely a small part of her, and though I am the one with the knowledge of our powers, she is the only one who can harness them to their full extent, which she'll need to if she wants to reseal Lucifer again."

Castiel takes in an uneven breath, feeling powerless. "So what happens to her now?"

Lyss settles her hand back onto her lap. "I'm glad you asked that. The next few weeks will be difficult for her. From the moment she wakes, she will struggle to live with her new abilities. Our powers are directly connected to our emotions and mental state, so in times of stress, Alice must learn to calm her mind. Eventually she will grow to control them, and when that time comes, I will be properly absorbed into her subconscious. But until then, could I ask you to protect her?"

The angel's gaze hardens. "Of course."

A look of relief melts the previous tension on her face. "And one more thing. You needn't worry about the emotions you've developed for Alice. They should be gone now that I have taken back that piece of my soul."

Castiel stills, his insides turning to ice. "What?"

Lyss seems bemused. "You didn't realize? I felt it when I touched you. The intimacy you've shared, the attachment you've been feeling for her. It's because the soul fragments have been calling to each other. Now that I am whole again, these sensations will no longer affect you." The girl smiles. "If you hadn't noticed, then it's all for the better. Forget I said anything."

Castiel straightens, the former tension leaving his shoulders. He might actually be relieved. He never did like the crawling sense of apprehension that came coupled with his… _desires_. This would make things simpler. The angel then notices the look of distraction on Lyss's face.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Alice is waking up, which means it's now my time to sleep. I will surface if circumstances become dire." She stands up, and the willow branches begin to withdraw to their original position. "I leave her to you, Castiel."

The angel watches engrossed as Lyss closes her eyes, retreating back to the body's subconscious. The silver tint of her hair draws back, pulling with it a color that is Alice's original jet black. The ethereal glow that painted her skin dims to the normal peach tone. The air buzzes with the transformation, atoms dancing sporadically in the air. The girl takes in a deep breath as she stands almost rigidly upright in the middle of the vault. When she begins to open her eyes, her pupils no longer gleam with gold, but is once again deep pools of rich auburn.

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	3. To Bite Off More Than You Can Chew

You begin to stir. Feeling as if you've been buried deep underground, you are lulled by the impression of resurfacing after a long absence. The sensations around you become clearer and distinct. Your eyelids flutter, and you grow increasingly aware of your own breathing. You feel ready to open your eyes. As your pupils drink in the light, you cringe, immediately losing balance. You take a wobbly step back, and something catches you, calling your name. But your senses are blasted to the brim with things competing for your attention. Sounds, colors, touch and smell, everything is too loud, too bright, too chaotic. You bring your hands to cover your ears, clamping your eyes shut.

Stop.

Stop!

STOP!

You feel a gripping hand, steadying you, but shaking you at the same time. Through the jumble of shouting noises, you know you find the touch familiar, and you force yourself to focus on whatever is holding you. Your efforts seem to be working as the noises and sharpness start to recede. The glare outside your lids seem to weaken as well. You calm your squirming and decide to take another chance with your vision. Slowly opening your eyes, you draw in your surroundings little by little. The swarm of fierce colors fade into sharper and more recognizable objects. The roaring in your ears quiet down to a hum. You lower your hands. Feeling something warm and sturdy supporting you, you rest your hands on it.

"Alice. Are you all right?"

The voice is clear now, and all too memorable. You bring your gaze towards the alluring sound, and the fuzzy profile settles back into focus. You blink in surprise at the sight of Castiel and how close he is. With your new vision unveiling the very essence of things, you're utterly dazed by the appearance of the shining angel standing inches from you. Peering past his physical form, you marvel at the glowing white light radiating from within.

"Castiel." You say a little breathlessly and throw your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. "You're alright!" The previous events leading up to Lucifer's escape run clear in your mind. You really hadn't been sure if Castiel would be able to make it out alive against the archangel.

 _~… Castiel immediately snakes his other hand around your neck, crashing his mouth over yours. The kiss isn't at all gentle like the one you offered…~_

You jolt from the memory, immediately pulling back. You can feel the heat crawl across your cheeks, and you turn your eyes from his questioning ones. Directing your embarrassed attention downwards, you suddenly take notice of the absurdly long locks of black hair falling past your vision. Your eyes widen in amazement. Grabbing at the tresses, you pull to make sure they're really your own. Your wild gaze then travel around the room, finally made aware of the flowering greenery.

"What happened? Where am I? Why's my hair so long?"

Castiel takes a hold on your shoulder, beckoning you to meet his eyes. "Alice, calm down. We're in Bobby's basement, specifically his panic room. You're safe, and so is Sam and Dean-"

At the mention of their names, you're about to fly into another frenzy of questions, but the angel silences you with a look.

"Your appearance and the plant life are a side effect of the transformation you're going through. Your alternate personality, Lyss, and I conversed. I will tell you all that she explained to me. But I need you to keep your emotions in check."

You stare at the angel, finding his calm disposition rather unnerving. Something strange catches your attention, and you further examine the man before you. "…You're different."

Castiel angles his head a degree. "What do you mean?"

You scrutinize him. "Something's missing…. You're more… singular now."

Understanding lights his face, and he looks away, taking his hand with him. "Yes. I am no longer sharing a body with Jimmy. This form now belongs solely to me."

You're not sure you understand. "Why? What happened to him?"

There's a guilty discomfort on his face, and he swallows. "He passed on when Raphael destroyed our body."

"What?"

His eyes slide to you, searching for any signs of fatigue or physical imbalance. His arms rest at attention. "Maybe you should sit down."

You find his worry disconcerting. "I'm fine. Tell me what happened."

Castiel exhales through his nose. "After you left, I fought against him. I lost, and he incinerated me."

You wince at the word. "But you're back now."

"Yes."

You examine every inch of his face, trying to reaffirm his existence. "…How?"

Castiel is silent for a moment, casting you an expectant look. "I believe it was God."

You can feel your eyes widen. The idea of God is still surreal to you, but what other explanation is there? Your gaze trail absentmindedly to the walls. "So he must be aware of the situation to some degree at least…."

Castiel visibly relaxes, for what reason you don't know, but you don't press. You're simply grateful for the fact that he is here with you now. Alive. You let out an unsteady breath before moving on to the next worrying subject.

"Can you tell me where Sam and Dean are? And Bobby too." You look up and search the floors above you for the recognizable presence of the older hunter. You can feel the different energy signatures of various creatures residing within the house: mice, insects, birds, even the raccoon scavenging by the porch. "I can't sense him here."

"Sam and Dean should be with Bobby right now. The last time I visited them, they were safe. I've hidden them from all angels, myself included, so I cannot gauge their immediate location right now."

You nod, satisfied with his answer, for the moment. Shifting your weight to the other leg, you move the conversation to the next topic. "Alright. So your talk with Lyss."

Castiel watches you, deliberating. "Before I start, how much of her existence do you know?"

You rub the back of your neck, trying to recall your first meeting with the girl during your state of semi-consciousness. "After I blacked out, Lyss appeared to me while I was still under. I know what I am now, more or less, and I can remember most of my previous lives, but Lyss's memories are a lot harder to discern. I can only glean bits and pieces. Something called _Wikkōn_ comes to mind." You grimace as hazy flashes sear through your mind. "A fight between Michael and Lucifer, a woman screaming…" The blood curdling cry echoes behind your ears, and you wince. Bringing a hand to your head, you rub your temple. "That's about it."

The angel nods. "This makes things easier."

When he sees the strain leave your face, he starts the detailed recount of his exchange with your alternate persona. You learn that you're a being even more ancient and mysterious than you first thought. And that Lyss was the one responsible for sealing the Devil in his prison. Now, all this power lies dormant within you, and you must master it if you want to stand a chance against Lucifer.

When Castiel finishes, you're left a little numb.

"Okay. So once I learn to control these powers, I should be able to put Lucifer back in his cage." The growing pressure and overwhelming obligation start to assault your nerves. You swallow a dry lump forming in your throat. "Alright. That sounds easy enough." Your voice shrills.

There's a sudden shattering of glass to the right, pulling both your and Castiel's attention. Pushed to the edge of the wall and covered in honeysuckle vines is one of Bobby's desks. On top is an old lamp with a now burst bulb.

"Your emotions are directly linked to your powers, Alice. You need to learn to regulate them."

You blow out a quick breath. "Okay, regulate, control. I got this. I should probably start doing some yoga…"

"Proper meditation would help as well."

You pitch an amused look at the seraph. "Duly noted, guru Castiel." When he doesn't seem to understand your humor, you decide to move on. "So now that God's brought you back, are you… Sympatico with the other angels? Given what happened with Raphael."

Castiel's mood is grim again. "No. None of the other angels seem to be aware of my revival, or even of God's intervention. Should they find me, they will continue to see me as a traitor for my disobedience."

Your body tenses. "But you were brought back by God, himself! If they realize this and continue to antagonize you, wouldn't that make them the real traitors?"

"The problem is that they don't believe anymore. I doubt even the archangels have been able to meet with God."

You study the angel's expression. There's something else in his voice. "Do _you_ believe it was God who brought you back?"

His look of vulnerability is back, betraying his real thoughts. Castiel had been suppressing his doubt. "I thought I did. …I want to."

You resist the urge to touch his hand, folding your arms instead. "If not him, then who?"

"I don't know."

The dismay on the angel's face is painful. He had rebelled against all he knew to help you and the Winchesters. You had failed, and now, branded as a traitor, he'll continue to be hunted. You clench your fists at your own uselessness, the nails digging into your skin. If only you were able to protect him. You blink when a thought comes to you, your brow unfurrowing.

"…Find him."

Castiel inches forward, pulled by the impromptu whispering. "What?"

You stare at him with a rousing sensation in your gut. You grab onto the sides of his arms. "Go find God! I believe that somewhere inside you, you know it was him that brought you back. Go find him. If he helped you then this shows that he's still aware, that he's still interested."

Castiel straightens, a look of hope rising in his eyes. But then he hesitates, feeling indecisive.

"Cass, what's wrong?"

The angel studies the ground. "I promised Lyss I would watch over you."

Your frown drops. If you didn't find him to be so adorable, you would have felt exasperated. "I'll be fine! Until you talk to God, just check up on me now and then. This is more important."

Castiel searches your face, his blue eyes darkening as he looms over you. "It may take a while."

You offer him lopsided grin. "Go, Cass. I'll be waiting. _We'll_ be waiting."

Castiel surrenders to your command and nods. Then, a shift in his expression. He's remembering something. "Before I go. Alice, take off your jacket."

You drop your hands and lean back. "What? Why?"

"I need to remove the tracking mark Uriel burned on you. It allows _all_ angels to find you no matter where you are or what protection spells you've used. And if you're as big of a threat to Lucifer as I think you are, he'll do whatever it takes to get to you."

Your face blanch at the notion. Quickly shedding the denim jacket, you pull back the neckline of your shirt to reveal the coin sized mark scorched on the corner of your collar bone.

Castiel narrows his eyes at the Enochian symbol. Reaching out, he presses his hand to your shoulder before smoothing his thumb over the mark. There's a rush of heat outpouring from his palm, shooting through the marred skin and into the rest of your body. You shudder as the warmth rolls forward, leaving you feeling quite light-headed. Taking notice, Castiel catches you around the waist while the other hand grabs onto your wrist. With your mind still swimming, you glance up at the angel. His face is only a breath away, and you wonder if he can hear the pounding in your veins. For the next few moments, he continues to stare at you, and you start to wonder if he is going to kiss you again.

"Are you alright?"

You feel his warm words on your cheek and the heat rolls back. You grit your teeth, trying to get your bearings. "Yeah..." Starting to feel like an infatuated idiot, you recoil from his hold.

Castiel drops his hands in an instant. "I apologize if that was uncomfortable. But I'm not finished."

You glance at your shoulder, eager to keep your eyes from his face and study the unblemished skin. "But the mark's gone…"

The angel seems tentative with his task. "I'm going to burn an Enochian Sigil onto your ribs as an added measure of safety. It's the same one I gave to Sam and Dean. It'll hide you completely from Lucifer and the other angels."

Your arm subconsciously moves over your chest. "That… sounds unpleasant."

"It is." His severe gaze is unchanged. "But the pain is brief."

You eye his hand warily, sighing. "Alright. Better safe than sorry, I guess…" You clench your fists in preparation. "Okay. I'm ready."

Castiel pushes his hand onto your upper abdomen. When the energy strikes you, you immediately lurch, feeling as if you've just been pummeled by a smoldering cannon ball.

"Ow!" You squeak out, skipping back. You press your hand to where he burned you, still grimacing from the shock. "You weren't kidding!" And just as Castiel said, after a few more pants, the pain is gone. You straighten your back, momentarily embarrassed from the dramatic protest. You clear your throat before your eyes find their way back to the angel.

Castiel watches you with an indiscernible emotion. "I'll be leaving now." Despite it being meant as a declaration, it sounds more like a question.

You quietly nod, feeling a little saddened.

"If you need anything, just call my name."

His incessant worry makes you smile. "You be careful too."

Leaving you with one last lingering glance, Castiel leaves.

Your eyes follow his disappearing form. With your new vision, you are able to see the lightning speed at which Castiel flew. Staring upwards, your vision perceive past the layers of housing to his racing figure shooting off into the atmosphere. When you can no longer feel his light, you bring your eyes back down to the garden like vault. Sighing, and in desperate need of a cold shower, you push at the door and head upstairs.

XXX

~With Dean and Sam~

The drive back to Bobby's house had been uncomfortable to say the least. Even with the old man's forgiveness, Dean finds himself unable to forget the decisions made by his younger brother. He knows that Sam had the right intentions, and a part of him might even understand why he did the things he did. But drinking demon blood, siding with the hell spawn, and choosing her over him repeatedly. He doesn't want to admit it, but it hurt.

Sam, on the other hand, was listlessly silent. In the car, he had snuck glances at his brother on numerous occasions, searching for the words that may ease the hurt and betrayal he caused. But in the end, he knew no matter what explanations he offered, Dean's reticence won't change.

And so, with suppressed feelings and unspoken words, the brothers rode on in silence until they finally arrived at their destination.

Slamming the car door shut, Dean scans the outside of Bobby's house. "You tried her cell?"

"Yeah." Sam steps out of the car after his brother, closing the door more gently. "Nothing."

"Well, Bobby did say she was in the basement... uh, _recuperating_. Maybe she's still there." Dean curls his lips uncomfortably around the word. He remembers the odd look on Bobby's face when he described Alice that same way.

Walking up to the porch, the two hunters nod to one another. Dean turns the knob.

Unlocked.

Not a good sign. Both boys immediately take out their guns. Pushing past the door, they tread into the house. Despite the silence, the boys see the objects scattered across the floor, a possible sign of struggle. Sam motions for Dean to circle around the main floor while he checks the upstairs. Keeping a firm finger near the trigger, the younger Winchester creeps up the steps to the top floor. He first inspects Bobby's bedroom, then the guest bedroom. Other than a few objects on the floor, everything seems relatively undisturbed. This is until Sam he lays his eyes on the bathroom. Where the door had previously been is now a shattered plank of splinters. The hinges are completely ripped apart. Sam swallows, tightening his jaw. He points his gun barrel at the entrance as he inches through the threshold.

Nothing.

Even knowing the bathtub is empty, he swipes back the shower curtain just in case. Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Sam casts a lingering glance at the battered door then retreats downstairs.

"Anything?" Dean asks as they reconvene.

"A few things fell, and the bathroom door is completely destroyed. It was like something ripped it apart."

Dean throws a suspicious look upstairs. "Right. C'mon, we still gotta check the basement."

The brothers stride to the cellar door, honing their senses the moment they take their first step. The way down is just as quiet as the rest of the house. Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, the two scan the area for further signs of danger. When they settle their attention on the last unchecked part of the house, they edge towards the vault. Dean makes an odd face at the semi-closed iron door. Is that flowers he smells?

"Alice?" He calls out.

Sam grabs onto the door and pulls it back, revealing the lush and colorful interior.

"The hell?"

Their breath is caught in their throats as the brothers stare at the wide array of flowers and plants spilling across the room. Their speechless expressions trail up the iron walls and across its circumference, which is now covered in vines and tiny blossoms. But what is most absurd is the small but sturdy looking willow tree in the middle of the room, conquering majority of the space. All of Bobby's furniture are either pushed to the rim or are completely swallowed in greenery.

Sam is the first to recover. "Did Bobby get a new hobby?"

"You kidding? The guy can't even keep a cactus alive." Dean shoots his brother an exasperated look, prompting a shrug from Sam.

"I mean, can you imagine Bobby gardening?" Dean continues. "The man's made up of booze and rust. I'm surprised there's even grass growing in the front yard."

Back at the hospital, Bobby sneezes.

"Okay." Sam nods, still staring at the surreal view. "Thinking about it, it would take a long time for all this to grow. And we were here –what, only two weeks ago?"

Dean leers at the vault with suspicion, feeling repelled by the unusual garden. "Let's get upstairs. Alice ain't here, and this is creeping me out." The hunter eagerly turns to leave.

"It's just some flowers and a tree, Dean." Sam's attention stays a moment longer before he follows after his brother.

Once Dean is on the main floor, he slides his gun back in the holster under his jacket. "Flowers, trees, grass. They belong outside, okay? Not in the panic room. It's weird that they're even able to grow. There's nothing but metal in there."

"Okay, alright." Sam cedes to his brother's bizarre paranoia of indoor plants, slamming the cellar door shut behind him. "So what now? Alice isn't here. Do you think someone took her? The angels maybe?" He freezes mid-step, whirling to Dean with alarm. "Lucifer?"

"Shit." Dean cusses. He glances around the room for an idea. Alice isn't answering her cellphone. There's a broken bathroom door and a weird garden downstairs. Maybe it _was_ Lucifer. He has no idea if Castiel got to Alice, and there's still that tracking mark Uriel put on her. Dean swears in his head. Did that mark allow Lucifer to track her too?

There's a thump from the front door, and the entrance swings open.

Dean and Sam have their weapons ready in split second, the barrels pointed towards a hooded intruder.

"Don't move!" Dean shouts out.

The intruder gives out a startled scream, immediately followed by the sound of very beer bottle shattering in the six pack she's holding.

The brothers examine the trespasser again, realizing the person is carrying a large box of pizza in one arm while the other is holding onto a now soaking box of broken glass. Her figure and voice are especially familiar. The Winchester battle ready stances unravel into expressions of incredulity when the girl drops the leaking box and pulls off her hoodie. Her look of irritation, exact as the first time the brothers encountered her, is starting to become a habitual greeting. The discrepancy compared to their first meeting? The girl isn't upset because they were about to off an innocent newly turned werewolf, but because her shirt is completely wet and covered in specks of beer foam. She emits a growl like sigh as she tosses her hair back, a mass of cluttered black locks that fall past her elbow. It's only then did the brothers realize it's raining outside.

"Alice?" Dean lowers his gun.

"Nice to see you, too." The girl veers to the living room and places the pizza box onto the coffee table. "Of course, it would've been nicer if I wasn't soaked in beer."

"What happened to you?" Sam examines her appearance while tucking the firearm at his waistband. "The last time we saw you was in the convent. Then Bobby said you appeared in his basement, which is covered in plants right now, and-," he pauses with a strange look. "Was your hair always like that?"

There's a quick rise and fall of Alice's shoulders, in which the brothers could only assume to be an impatient sigh with her back turned to them. Pivoting on her heel, she grants the two Winchesters a look of unexpected nonchalance. "Look guys. I'll explain everything. But first," She gestures to the large soaked area in her green shirt and jeans, flecked with shards of glass. "Let me go upstairs to change and wash up first. Then, I promise. Every question you have."

There's a restless rumble from the back of Dean's throat, but he reluctantly gives his okay.

Sam, on the other hand, reins in his anxiety with more finesse. "The bathroom door is broken by the way."

Alice waves a hand in response, moving up the stairs. "Yeah, I know."

When she rounds the railing and disappears from view, Dean fixes his attention on the sopping box near the entrance. "So… why'd the bottles break?"

Sam sighs. "Let's just add that to the list of questions." He walks over to the cupboard in the kitchen and pulls out a broom and mop. "Help me with this."

Dean makes a non-committal noise as Sam tosses the mop to him. He watches with an arm propped over the handle as the tall man hunches over to gather the shards back into the beer box.

"God, when are we gonna catch a break? Whole world's going to hell, Bobby's a paraplegic, and now we have whatever the hell Alice is going through. Remember when things were simpler? When all we had to deal with were monsters, ghosts, and demons?"

The irony of his brother's comment isn't lost on Sam. "Could be worse." He goes to search the cupboards for a garbage bag. "At least we're still alive." He wishes he actually believed his own words.

When Sam returns with a bag and disposes the wet carton, Dean starts on the mopping. It isn't for a few more minutes until they hear Alice's footsteps coming down the stairs. By then, both the boys have already started on her pizza, Dean stretched out on the couch and Sam on a chair to the other side of the coffee table. They turn to see Alice standing at the bottom of the steps staring at them with narrowed eyes. With her hair now in a quick pony tail, she sports a simple gray long sleeve and a new pair of jeans.

"Help yourselves, guys." Her voice is clearly sarcastic.

Dean swallows another huge mouthful. "Hey, we drove all the way here to check on you. That's two towns over non-stop. We deserve this."

Alice just shakes her head and struts towards them.

Sam washes his bite down with a sip from his beer can. "We tried calling your cell, but you never picked up."

Setting herself on the couch next to Dean, Alice reaches out and pulls a slice, worried if she waited any longer, there'd be no more left. "Yeah, I totally lost it. I think I dropped it somewhere between the time I was in that hotel to when Zachariah had me locked up." Before Dean can take a swig from his own beer, Alice snatches the can from him and downs it herself.

"Hey! That's mine."

The girl holds up a finger while she chugs the entire beverage. When she finishes, she tosses the can into the nearest wastebasket. "I merited that. If you guys hadn't scared me, my six pack would still be here."

Dean throws his hands up and mutters under his breath. He gets up to the kitchen for another can.

"Yeah, sorry about that. We didn't know it was you. And with the house all messy –while, messier than usual, we were kinda on edge."

The sides of her brow relax, her eyes cool. Sam _is_ the more sincere one. When he sees that he had sufficiently pacified her, he starts his questioning. "So, why did the bottles break?"

Dean is back with a new can and plops himself back on the couch. "We cleaned that up. You're welcome by the way." He wags the can in front of her. "You ain't touching this one."

Sam clears his throat at his brother, trying to relay telepathically that the man should shut up and eat his pizza. He only just got the girl placid enough for questioning. Dean only returns with a silent 'what?' gesture.

Alice notes their little exchange and decides to save them the trouble. "Alright. I said I was gonna explain everything. So here goes."

With a deep breath, she starts her long winded recount beginning at the moment she was separated from the brothers at the convent. She explains the phenomenal change she experienced, the memories that were locked away, her origins, and the woman named Lyss that is now a separate but also connected entity who resides within her.

As Alice continues her story, the faces on the brothers become increasingly sober, shifting from looks of utter amazement to downright skepticism. And when she finally finishes the recollection, Sam and Dean are left still mentally reeling at the fantasy-like tale.

"You're telling me you were the one who had Lucifer locked up in the first place?" Dean doesn't even bother to hide his disbelief. His voice is becoming shrill again.

Alice bits her lips. "Well, Lyss did. But technically, yes."

The hunter's face is strained with exasperation. "Right. This character Lyss, who you say lives in your head is the savior of mankind."

Her back straightens, eyes tight with scrutiny. He might as well have accused her of insanity.

"You know what people call that, right? When you have more than one personality living inside your head?"

"Dean!" Sam cautions under his breath.

Alice, however, looks completely unfazed. "I think you're thinking of dissociative personality disorder."

Dean raises his head with pursed lips. "I was gonna say schizophrenia."

The black haired girl rolls her eyes. "Please, schizophrenia is completely misrepresented and frankly clichéd. People who suffer from it are often quite sane."

"You're not helping your case."

"Okay, guys." Sam finally intervenes. "We're not getting anywhere." He throws a glance at his brother. "Dean, you shut up." Ignoring the man's protests, he then switches to the female. "Alice, is there anything you can show us regarding your transformation? I'm not saying I don't believe you, but it does sound a little too good to be true."

Alice looks away in thought. "Trust me, the situation isn't at all too good to be true, but I guess I don't really have a knack for explanations. Cass was able to make it sound so reasonable…"

Dean swerves. "Wait, you saw Cass?"

Alice glances back at the two, noticing the change in their demeanor. "Yeah. He was here when I woke up. He met her –met Lyss, and told me what happened. He then burned the Enochian sigil into me before he left." She faces away for a moment, looking a bit embarrassed. Shaking her head of some thought, Alice returns to the present discussion. "Cass said he gave you guys the same sigil."

Sam moves to touch his chest, remembering the burn he felt. "Yeah. Okay, so if Cass saw Lyss, then he can corroborate your story."

The immortal makes a face. "Why is this sounding more and more like I'm some suspect in a b-rated flick?" She stands up from the couch and with both hands on her hips, she spins to position herself in front of the boys. "The plants in the basement, I caused that. I may not know everything right now, but I understand that being a _Wikkōn_ means that I draw my power from Earth. Not only that, I can see and sense things I couldn't before." Her eyes give the room a swift sweep. "For example. I see the energies of the different creatures that live here." She points to the ceiling. "The small family of rats in the attic," then to opposing wall, "the insects burrowing along the walls," then to the study table in front of the wall, "that spider in the Bobby's desk."

The two hunters followed her constant pointing, ending with the scratched up furniture behind them.

"Even your energies."

Sam and Dean spin back to the girl. Alice is now eyeing them like objects, her gaze plunging through them. The brothers feel strangely exposed.

"Since I walked through the door, there's been an odd tension in you. Like something wants to get out but at the same time it's too afraid. I don't know what happened, but there's dead air between you two."

The boys grow silent, looking away from each other.

There's a mixture of victory and pity in her eyes. "No offence, but you guys have more drama than a teenager on prom night."

But the boys did take offence.

"Okay. This is good. So the next time Lucifer comes around, you can just use your witchy powers to seal him away." Dean can't help sounding vindictive.

Alice jabs a finger at him. "First of all, it's _Wikkōn_ , which is a hundred times cooler."

Dean rolls his eyes.

"Second, have you not been listening? I can't control this yet. If I lose my calm, the stuff around me starts breaking."

Sam takes on a brooding face. "That's how you broke the bottles? We startled you, and you lost control of your… powers?"

Alice brings a hand to her brow and groans. "Not to mention the bathroom door."

"Wait, you did that? It was like a bear mauled it."

She rubs the bridge of her nose, eyes closed and brows knit. "Which is why I said my situation is anything but 'too good to be true'. I can't even pull the small spells anymore. I tried closing the door with one and instead had it shattered."

Sam raises his eyebrows while Dean rubs the back of neck.

"I guess you fixing up Bobby is outta the question."

Alice looks up in alarm. "Why would Bobby need fixing? Where is he?"

When Dean doesn't answer, she switches the demand to his brother. Sam's attention shifts uneasily between her and the floor.

"We dropped the ball. We found something called the Michael Sword from Chuck, and Bobby drove out to help us decrypt the location. We thought we could use it against Lucifer-"

"Blah blah blah. Long story short, the sword turns out to be a bust, and Bobby got possessed by a demon on his drive to us. If he hadn't broke the demon's control and stabbed himself, I'd be breathing out of a tube right now." Though Dean's voice is harsh, his face is shadowed with guilt.

Sam peers over to his brother, a similar look of culpability painted across his face.

"But, he's okay now right?" Alice grips the hem of her shirt. "Or else, you wouldn't be here."

Sam lowers his head, the shadow over his eyes darkening. "Bobby's not in any life threatening danger, but the doctor said there's a good chance he won't be able to walk again."

Alice stares mechanically at the younger Winchester. Bobby is a hunter, without his legs, the profession would be impossible. Her eyes dance across the space as she searches her mind for a solution. "What about Cass? Can't he heal him?"

Dean clicks his tongue. "Cass said he's cut off from Heaven's mojo, with his whole rebellion and all. Now he's off trying to find _God_." Cynicism drips from his tone. "Took my lucky pendant with him too." That remark earned him a look of disdain.

"For the record, I was the one who suggested he look for _God_." She ignores the disbelief on the hunter's face. "And second. Lay off him, Dean. The guy risked everything and **died** , by the way, to help us. We failed to stop the apocalypse and now he's being hunted by his own kind! Think maybe you should change your attitude?"

Dean looks away in a wordless grumble. He knows just how much the angel sacrificed, and how sour his own feelings are. But he just can't shake the agonizing discontent. He just wishes things could go back to the way they were. Before Lucifer and angels and Ruby. When he and Sammy were just hunting monsters, when they still trusted each other. The man relents, but when he looks back to the scolding girl, she is no longer glaring at him. Her face is now soft with sympathy. Dean isn't sure which he prefers less.

"So what happens now?" Sam cuts the dreary silence for his brother's sake. "Do you think you'll be able to learn to control your powers?"

Alice drops the sentimental visage and replaces it with a more pensive one. "Well, apparently, from what I've gleaned from my memories of Lyss, I'm supposed to wait it out. The basic integrity of my body has changed," she lifts her hand and flexes her fingers, "but it'll still take a while before these powers settle into my new body. Until then... Cass recommended meditation?"

Dean purses his lips, his mouth full of unexpressed acerbity.

Sam rubs his hands together, trying to appear optimistic. "But, eventually you'll control it. Then we'll be able to take down Lucifer." He looks to Dean, patting him on the shoulder. "This is good news. This could be the break we've been waiting for!"

Dean slides a hand across his jaw, unconvinced but decides to keep his opinions suppressed. "Yeah, maybe."

Alice starts to look uneasy, her voice is an octave higher. "It might take a while, so we should probably work on a backup plan."

Sam is too focused on cheering up his brother to notice the girl's distress. "Yeah, of course. But it's nice to know we got a secret weapon up our sleeves if things don't pan out."

There's a shattering clang. Another bulb in the house has burst. The brothers turn to the lamp on Bobby's desk. The broken glass and wire pieces litter over the messy paperwork. They veer back to Alice pointedly. Her face might as well have the guilty sign stamped across it.

"Sorry. No pressure please."

Sam's lips pull into an awkward smile. "Yeah. Sure."

Dean just shakes his head.

* * *

 **Please Read and Review**


	4. To Catch A Liar

You inhale deeply, bringing your outstretched arms back down. You tilt your head upwards, basking in the sunlight. Opening your eyes, you survey the dusk glow over the silent road meters away from the motel. At this moment, you're sitting cross-legged on top of the motel roof. In fact, you're pretty sure guests are not allowed up here, but you couldn't find anywhere peaceful enough to practice your calm. Normally, you would have taken your bouts of meditation in secluded parks or woods. But, with the nonstop road trip you've been on, the current selected accommodation offers nothing but empty fields and farmland.

You gaze at your hands, your fingers tingling. You believe you're coming to understand the fundamentals of your powers, providing they seem most revitalized near the presence of nature. Just as your mood is lifted by this moderate improvement, the familiar vroom of a Chevy Impala interrupts your thoughts. You glance down from the roof and watch as the dark car pulls in from the road and into the parking spot in front of your room. Through the windshield, you can see Dean's grim expression, the same look he was wearing when Sam left.

~ 8 days ago~

After your reconnection with Sam and Dean, they had driven you out to see Bobby. Although you had confessed your current helplessness, you assured him that you will get him back the use of his legs. The old man offered you a begrudging smile at that. It was right then that he told you about a distress call he received from another hunter named Rufus. The call seemed pretty urgent, and since there was no way Bobby could respond, he asked you and the Winchesters to provide help in his place.

During the rescue, you became acquainted with Ellen and Joanna, two other hunter friends of the brothers. Despite the scale of violence and confusion that came with the mission, in the end, Rufus was rescued, and you were all able to walk out alive. The victory was in fact minor in comparison to the discovery made through this incident.

Lucifer had not been idle since his freedom. In bringing about Armageddon, he began to unleash the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. War, the creature you and the Winchesters had encountered, was the instigator of the madness that occurred in River Pass. With joint efforts, you wrung back his malevolent influences by cutting off the ring on his index finger. Once removed, War vanished, leaving behind nothing but his gold band. Things took a turn for the worse soon after. With three more horsemen running rampant, you knew you needed all the help you could get. Yet, before you were able to devise a plan for the next course of action, Sam unloads his true sentiments.

…

"You're leaving?" You ask, aghast, feeling like you've been doused with cold water.

It was the day after the River Pass ordeal, and the three of you had stopped at a small diner on your way out of Colorado. The day was sunny, the scenery picturesque, rendering the previous events grizzly and surreal by comparison.

Sam's morose gaze drops to the ground. "Yeah."

You search his face. "Why?"

The man grips onto the straps of his backpack, inching it up his shoulder. "If I stay with you guys, I'll only make things worse." He stops you before you could protest. "Alice, when I killed those two boys…. All I could think about when I saw their blood on my knife… was how much I wanted to drink it."

Your voice falters.

Sam lifts his face, staring you square in the eyes. Though his hazel irises are filled with self-loathing and shame, there is a tint of somber acceptance. "I remember there was a time when I couldn't even come close to killing. Now, no matter how much I try to deny it, it's become the norm. This thirst for demon blood, for power. War was right. I can't be trusted around you guys. I can't be a hunter anymore."

You watch the man, tongue tied. His confession has completely knocked out all the rebuttals your mind was preparing. You blow out a slow breath, casting your gaze to the patch of weeds sprouting a few feet away. How do you convince a man of his virtues when he doesn't even believe he has them? Settling your attention back to Sam, you grasp his shoulder. You vie to convey the vulnerable man your support. "Sam, I disagree with you, but I understand."

Sam dips his head, appearing grateful and guilty at the same time. "I get it, with everything that's happened, leaving you guys to face the apocalypse and all, it's like I'm abandoning everyone-"

You cut off him before he continues the self-abuse. "It's okay. I know you need this. Go, and be safe."

His jaw clamps shut, his face rigid. You pull the tall man into a heart-wrenching hug, you've grown to be so fond of him. Upon release, you give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I want you to know, when you're ready, feel free to come back. I'll be waiting." You then nod towards the elder Winchester, sitting by himself on a picnic table a few yards away. "And even if Dean doesn't realize it, he'll be waiting too."

His eyes carry over to the same picnic table, swimming with conflicting emotions. You give him a light pat on the arm, knowing he'll want to say his goodbyes to Dean. Sam gives you a final nod before he squares his shoulders and walks off in his brother's direction.

…

You had thought Dean would put up more of a fight, but as he explained to you in the car after Sam was long gone, he was relieved about his brother's departure. Dean reiterated over and over again that he didn't have to constantly worry about Sam and his actions anymore. He was a free man, and he felt elevated. You thought Dean was being rather defensive, but you kept your opinions silent.

Originally, Dean decided it would be best if you stayed with Bobby. That way, he would be able to have someone for help now that he's in a wheelchair, and you'd be able to practice your new powers (he had said with air quotation marks) in a safe place. You held back your biting retorts, knowing Dean was putting up a front, and that he really just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. When he passed his suggestion to Bobby over the phone, the old man thoroughly chewed him out. Under the array of colorful language, it was finalized that even in his wheelchair, Bobby was still a completely independent and functioning individual who required no one's assistance. And with that, you were left to continue your road trip with a simmering Dean, and a very uncomfortable atmosphere.

For the next few weeks, you and Dean were off hunting whatever piqued the Winchester's radar. Following Sam's absence, Dean had seemed particularly focused on monster killing. In the first few days, when he wasn't dragging you into research or to the police departments posing as FBI agents, he'd be dragging you to bars. You, being able to see past his façade of bravado, did your best to supply company. Many times, the man would drink himself sick, and you would have to carry him back to whatever motel you were staying at. He had never acted like this when Sam was around.

During one of his drunken stupors, he had unwittingly revealed to you his last encounter with Zachariah and what the Michael Sword really was. The man had started with incoherent cursing of God and angels, and after a few pressing questions from you, he spilled the beans on everything that weighed on his mind. And boy, was there a lot. You're surprised how Dean can function the way he is given the amount of problems he's suppressed in his psyche. All in all, the secret he kept that troubled you the most was the tie he now had to the strongest archangel of all. He was to be Michael's vessel. And the angels are pursuing him for his consent. Michael needed Dean's permission to use his body, and the hunter was repulsed by the notion. You became much nicer to him after that day.

During the following weeks, the two of you continued to grace the different pubs with your presences after a hunt. On numerous occasions, as soon as you left to use the washroom, you would find Dean immersed in conversation with one of the most attractive women in the pub, having completely forgotten your existence. If you hadn't been so impressed with his game and sympathetic to his loss, you would've marched right up and cock-blocked him. Instead, you simply sat yourself down in a corner table and watched over him. On the days when Dean seemed chipper, you would leave as soon as you were sure a girl is smitten with him. During his darker times, you would stay waiting for him until the pub was ready to throw him out. The man was hard to take care of, and it made you wonder how Sam was fairing.

So, once again, when you saw that the hunter had engaged the interest of a pretty redhead by the bar, you decided to take a cab back to the motel.

~Present time~

Knowing Dean would be looking for you, you quickly get up. After a quick scan around the area for any bystanders, you hop over the ledge and drop onto the pavement. Just as you straighten from your crouching position, the door to your room swings open, revealing a startled looking Dean.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

You raise an eyebrow while simultaneously placing a hand at your hip. "What, with you out sleeping with every hot girl you can find, I can't take a small stroll outside?"

Dean seizes your wrist and drags you back into the room. Giving the outside another once over, he closes the door. He quickly releases you with a pointed look. "Do you have your hex bag with you? Lucifer's looking for you remember?"

You notice the strange tension in the hunter's stature. "Yes, I have it with me at all times. What's wrong? You're usually more amiable after your one-night liaisons."

Dean doesn't appreciate your quip. "Yeah well. Turns out, I almost shacked up with a demon." He shudders. "I spent the rest of the day driving around for a place to dump the body. They're actively looking for us now. Lucifer pretty much put a bounty on our skulls." He walks past you and shrugs off his jacket. The motion shakes off the dirt residue, vindicating his claim. "They really wanted you though. Guess the devil's getting serious about you." Dean cranes his head back to shoot you a jeering glance. "How does it feel to be on the top of the devil's wanted list?"

Your face is void of any emotion. A few days ago, the idea of Lucifer and the responsibility of stopping him would have cracked a few lightbulbs and glassware, but not anymore. Dean took notice of your distress and found the reaction rather hilarious, and would prod you with the notion whenever he found the chance. You're rather proud of yourself at reigning in your emotions. When the hunter realizes he isn't going to get anything out of you, he shrugs.

"I guess you're getting better."

Tired of his mocking humor, you decide this would be to perfect time to fetch some dinner. "I'm gonna head out to find us some food. Any preferences?"

From the bathroom, Dean turns around with exasperation. "I just said Lucifer has demons all over looking for you, and all you can think about is food?"

You pull out the hex bag from your pocket and dangle the pouch at eye level. "Make your decision, or all you're getting is salad."

"Do it and die. I want something meaty. …And pie."

You nod knowingly and head out the door. "Of course."

XX

When you return to the motel, you notice the Impala is missing. You quickly enter the room only to find it empty. Glancing around the silent space, you feel discomforted by Dean's sudden disappearance. If there was a job, he would have called you. If demons found him, there should be signs of struggle. The room however, is in the exact shape you left it. It takes you awhile before you notice the wrinkled piece of paper lying on the ground next to the table. A breeze from the window must have blown it off. You drop your sandwich and Dean's double bacon cheeseburger and blueberry pie onto the table. Stooping down, you pick up the sheet and read the scraggily handwriting. It's a message from Dean.

 _Got a distress call from a hunter friend. Simple job. Will be back in a few days._

You stare at the rather simplistic message. Taking out your phone, you scan the call history. Nothing. Something feels fishy. Why didn't Dean just call you? You press the screen beside his number and bring the phone to your ear. The phone rings for quite a bit before you finally hear the clicking of a call answered.

"What is it?"

You breathe out in silent relief. "You couldn't wait for me? I was only gone for twenty minutes."

"Sorry, it sounded pretty urgent."

You narrow your eyes. "You wrote that it was a simple job."

There's an uncomfortable pause. "It is, but it's also urgent. Look, just hang tight for a while. Practice controlling your mojo, and I'll be back before you know it."

"Tell me where the mission is and I can meet you there-"

"No!"

His forceful rejection startles you. "Look Alice. I'm gonna be fine. Relax and enjoy your time off for a bit. I'll see you soon."

The call ends before you can say anything else. You stare speechless at the call ended text rolling across the screen. You don't know what Dean is up to, but his words were definitely shady. You're about to call Bobby to see what he knew before you contemplate Dean's words for a second time. He's leaving you alone, which means, for the first time in a LONG time, you're free to do what you want. The idea immediately invigorates you. You quickly pack up your things and check out of the motel. The nearest city is in Maine, and it's been a while since you ventured to a large city for fun. Calling for a cab, you wait eagerly by the street side to start your monster-free holiday.

XXX

You sip contentedly at your chai latte as you relax by the window seat of a quaint little café. Having booked a hotel room across the street, you are now enjoying some quality you time, studying your spell book. The café is warmly lit, and filled with an adequate number of people. The hustle and bustle, though lively, is not overtly distracting. You feel the company of normal people to be quite soothing. When your eyes land on a small binding spell for energy repression, you're suddenly interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Alice?"

You glance up from the book, meeting a pair of startled green eyes. The girl's face, adorned with expertly drawn make up, is currently framed with curls of faded lavender. She is dressed in a silk blouse and a pencil skirt, finished with a pearl tweed coat hanging over her arm. Attractive would be a light description of her appearance.

"Maggie?" You stand up in equal surprise.

"You bitch!" The woman slaps a hand across your arm. "Where the hell have you been?!"

The whack didn't hurt, but you rub the spot where she hit you out of habit. You give her a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I've kinda been traveling around."

Maggie places a hand at her hip. "And you couldn't manage one call? Your place's been empty for weeks!"

You give a sweeping nod, starting to feel the stares drawn in by the commotion. "Um, certain circumstances prevented me from… contacting people." You feel muddled by your vague explanation.

Her irritation passes, bringing forth a look of concern. The lavender haired woman leans forward, discretion in her tone. "Is this about a job?"

You give her a half smile. Her readiness to accept the more eccentric particularities of your life never fail to amaze you.

Maggie had been your closest friend ever since you saved her life from a coven of vampires a few years ago. They had targeted her because of her striking appearance and had saw her value as lure for future meals. The poor girl was kidnapped right from her condo, despite the building advocated for its security.

When you stole into the coven's hideout, you had glimpsed the girl prattle on quips and excuses in an attempt to delay their death kiss. Hands bound to a bedframe, she maneuvered their attention to her voice while her fingers ripped into the rope with a glass fragment. Despite her obvious disadvantage, there was an ardent determination in her eyes. Nonetheless, even if she had managed to break free, how could she possibly outrun twelve full-fledged monsters? That was where you came in. Literally. The moment Maggie's bindings broke apart, you set the entire left of the building ablaze. Through the panic, you tore into their midst. With nothing but a dagger in hand, you extinguished the vampire family in minutes.

"Yeah." You finally answer, the memories of your first encounter enliven you.

Maggie throws a suspicious glance around the café. "So there are monsters here then? In Maine?"

"Probably not, I'm not here on a job." You sit back down and gesture for her to take the seat across from your table. "I'm actually taking a short vacation." You pause, shooting her a strange look. "What are you doing here?"

Maggie lowers herself onto the chair, batting her lashes in a demure fashion. "Well, you weren't the only person having adventures. I've been doing quite a bit of moving around myself. You know how I don't like to stay in one place for too long. I'd took a job here out of curiosity, and so far, it's been a party!"

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely interested. Maggie's professional interests have always been atypical. "What do you do?"

She flashes a cat like smile then glances to the silver plated watch at her wrist. "Actually, it's almost time for me to start my shift." She rummages through her wallet and slides a glossy black business card across the table. "Why don't you come by at around midnight? I'll give you a tour. Then we'll go for drinks and you'll spill about everything that's been happening."

You pick up the card, examining the gleaming double Ks placed at the center of the card. On the other side are the letters VIP printed in an equally refracting font. You narrow your eyes at the obscurity. Glancing up at the scheming face of your friend, you pitch her a grin, accepting her challenge. "Alright. Sounds fun."

Maggie stands up, eyes glittering. "See you soon!" She wiggles her fingers at you in adieu and struts out of the café.

You watch her disappearing form in amusement before examining the business card once more. It certainly seems posh enough. "Interesting…." Bringing your musings to a close, you open up your spell book again and continue reading.

XXX

You stand idly as the suited man studies you with a look of sly interest. You withstand the gaze, unwavering in your expression. You know you're in the right place. What you don't know is what you'll be in for behind the large black doors behind the bouncer.

You had researched on your laptop for the location of Maggie's work using the obscure business card she's given you. The only thing that appeared on the search engines was an address to a restaurant bar and nothing else. When you arrived at the establishment, despite the appearance of its haut-culture, you still had trouble believing that Maggie, _your_ Maggie, would be working at a simple restaurant. Eager to cure your curiosity, you entered the restaurant and passed the business card to the Maître'D. You're then immediately led towards the black doors behind a set of velvet curtains.

The bouncer gives a curt bow of his head, customary to all VIP clients, you assume. "Your presence is expected, Miss Grey."

A fleeting look of amusement passes through your features. Maggie had enlisted the identity you adopted when you first met her. Nodding, you step past the man when he opens the doors for you. There is another hostess waiting on the other side. The bouncer promptly passes your card to her, and she replies with a verifying dip of her head.

"This way, Miss Grey."

You're led into a grand but dark hallway that curves steadily to the left. The entire left wall is replaced by two layers of glass rippling with water in between. Bluish violet light looms past the waterfall, casting transient rays over you and the opposite wall as you pass. You gaze on in marvel, unable to remember the last time you visited a place so ritzy. Eventually, the hostess stops in front of another black door and turns the knob. The entrance swings open to a wide circular room with a view overlooking the establishment below. You walk tentatively into the room, examining the layout. By the wall to the right, the lulling melody of jazz music plays from the seven feet speakers on either of a giant flat screen. Two meters in front is an arching purple leather couch.

"This is your VIP lounge. Please make yourself comfortable. Your entertainment will be arriving shortly." The hostess bows her head respectively and closes the door behind her.

You raise an eyebrow at her departure. "Entertainment, huh?" You wonder just what in the world Maggie had planned. Noticing the dancing light beyond the panoramic view of the windows, you step towards the spectacle. Your eyebrows nearly pop off your head as you take in the scenery below.

Similarly decorated to your lounge, the space beneath is accented with purple and black meshing of designs, reminding you strongly of the Victoria Secret stores. Placed across the black marble flooring are various booths of black couch seats and violet clothed tables. The entire room is darkened, save for the feeble lights off the walls. But what piques your attention is not the furniture or the interior design, it is the exorbitant display of carnal foreplay between the men dressed in suits and the women dressed in… a lack thereof dress. You utter a silent 'wow' as you watch several women lead their partners away through the adjacent halls. It's a brothel. Maggie had led you to a brothel. You close your eyes and bring a hand to you brow, a defeated smile playing on your lips.

The clicking of the doorknob enters your hearing, and you look towards the entrance. Standing at the door way is none other than your completely ludicrous friend. You shoot her an are-you-serious-face at the ensemble she is wearing.

As she closes the door, Maggie returns with an innocent 'what?', which in fact is highly ironic coupled with her choice of a pearl babydoll over lacy black brassiere and underwear, lavender garters and suspenders that draw the view down her long legs which are veiled with black stockings. Now here's the perfect lingerie model if you ever saw one.

"Am I to suppose that you're my entertainment for tonight?" You drawl, crossing your arms appraisingly.

Maggie strikes a seductive pose. "If it pleases you…"

A brief moment of silence passes as you simply stare at one another before both breaking into a peel of laughter.

"I can't believe you got me to come here." You say after a few intakes of breath.

Maggie saunters towards the minibar and takes out a bottle of wine then two champagne glasses from the cupboard above. "Hey, you were the one who walked through those doors. All I did was give you a card." She places the glasses onto the coffee table and plops down on the couch. Popping off the cork, she pours the champagne. Once both glasses are filled, she puts the bottle aside and twists around, offering you a glass over the back of the couch. You accept, swinging your legs over the same backrest and retaining the unconventional seat.

"You scheming deviant, you knew my curiosity would get the better of me."

Maggie raises her glass, and you meet her toast with a clink. Her eyes holds a mischievous twinkle. "Aren't you glad your outcome was much more pleasant than the cat's?"

You reply with a smirk, bringing the drink to your lips. "So this is what's currently holding your interest?"

The girl winks. "I told you it's a party. And not to brag, but I'm the number one request. You'd have to pass a certain bar just to catch a glimpse of me."

You chuckle. "Now that doesn't sound like bragging at all. And I suppose I'm to consider myself quite lucky to be in your presence?"

Maggie tilts her head in mock reserve, "Why, Alice. If you're thinking of getting lucky tonight, you're saying all the right words."

Just as you share in another laugh, something attracts your attention from your peripheries. Your humor dies as you feel the familiar angelic energy. You slide off your seat and walk back to the window, glancing downwards. You instantly catch sight of the unmistakable beige trench coat.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Behind you, Maggie approaches. Concerned by the sudden diversion which now holds your focus, she follows your line of vision.

You stare at the angel, sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd with his effusion of heavenly energy. It takes you a while before you even notice the elder Winchester sitting across the table from him. A server approaches with two pints and places the drinks in front of both men. Your brow twitches. Dean told you he was helping a friend on an urgent job. Just what in the _hell_ is he doing here, and with Castiel of all people- er angels?

"Friends of yours?"

Your eyes thin into a seething narrow. "Yes."

She raises a brow at your hiss, then turns to survey the pair again. "They're pretty yummy looking."

You glare down at Dean as he gestures animatedly towards the different girls. "Wanna show me how to get down there? I think I need to have a word with my _friends_ …"

Maggie glances back and forth between you and the men below. A look of delight blooms on her face. "Sure." Hooking onto your arm, she leads you out the door. You're hardly paying attention as you're towed through the corridors and down the stairs. All you can think about is how you're going to rip Dean a new one for lying to you. If he wanted some alone time, he could have just said. It feels insulting for him to employ such a roundabout lie just so he can get his game on at a call house. You reach the bottom floor and exit into the main lounge through a grand archway. You spot the Winchester immediately, chasing after a blonde in a black camisole, and Dean likewise, lock eyes with you. His face blanches, and he quickly spins around. Walking with a forced nonchalant manner in the opposite direction, he prays he did not catch your notice.

You breathe out a simmering breath. Pulling your arm from Maggie's, you make a beeline for the hunter. You clamp onto the man's shoulder, restraining him. You could feel his remorseful tension underneath your grip. With a placid grin, you spin him around to face you. "Why, hello, Dean. Fancy seeing you here."

Dean surrenders with a heaving sigh. "How the hell did even you find me?"

You resist the urge to tear at his ear like you would a naughty man-child that he is. "Maybe you should try explaining to me why you're here, and with Cass."

Dean huffs out a groan. "Look. The whole thing was Cass's idea."

You give him a that's-the-worst-lie-I've-ever-heard look.

Maggie approaches from behind, inserting herself into your interrogation. To your chagrin, she immediately captures the attention of the Winchester, baiting him with her looks like a juicy steak to a hungry wolf.

"Well, hello there." Dean greets, pretty much forgotten about you already.

You roll your eyes.

Maggie batts her eyes at the man. "Hey."

You turn your peeved attention to your distracting friend. "Maggie. You can't do this right now."

The girl pouts.

Dean looks back and forth at the two of you with a bewildered expression. "You two know each other?"

"Why did you lie to me, Dean?" You snap.

Dean fidgets, his own curiosity struggling with the severity of your tone. At last, he relents and puts his own desires on hold. "I wasn't lying about this being Cass's idea! Well- not about coming here specifically though. Totally my idea. I meant about lying to you."

Your look demands he elaborate.

Just as Dean opens his mouth, a scream echoes across the lounge, sounding from the hall behind the opposite archway.

Maggie tilts her head at the commotion. "Well that hasn't happened in a while."

You and Dean exchange knowing looks and head towards the scream. When you reach the hall, you're greeted with dozens of onlookers standing outside their doors that line the length of the corridor. Dean moves ahead of you, blocking your view as a woman in a white babydoll screams and berates someone further down the hall. There is the sound of her hurling something before her stomping heels approach. She turns and launches an insult with an equally shrill voice at Dean then barges through the exit, leaving spectators baffled and amused.

Dean turns and steps further towards the man she was yelling at. "What the hell did you do?"

Your line of vision is finally unblocked as the disheveled looking angel is revealed to you. He lifts a blank stare to Dean.

"I don't know. I just looked at her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father, Gene, ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office." Castiel glances down the hall again after the girl's infuriated departure, only to have his gaze caught by your presence.

You can't help it. You've completely lost your earlier vexation at the sight of him. You bring a hand your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter.

Dean shakes his head in exasperation. "Oh, no, man! This whole industry runs on absent fathers! It's the natural order."

Castiel's attention is elsewhere. A deer in the headlights.

You bring an arm across your stomach, clutching your side as your entire body shakes. You feel Maggie lean against the wall next to you. "Well, your friends certainly know how to put on a show, but I'm not sure if management appreciates it."

At her words, you glance to the lounge entrance way and see two bouncers striding forward. You turn to Dean and see the hunter has noticed the same.

"We should go. C'mon." Dean grabs Castiel's arm and pulls him in the other direction, but not before shooting you an urging look.

You swivel back to Maggie, your feet already inching after them. "I'm so sorry, Mags. But I gotta go."

Her brows knit. "But we just saw each other!"

You glance back to the two and Dean is waving his hands impatiently, signaling you to follow. You take another few steps back. "I know, I'm sorry! But I really need to go with them." You join the hunter and the angel by the door and offer your friend one last remorseful regard. "I'll contact you as soon as I can. I promise!" You tear your eyes away from her exasperated ones and run down the emergency stairs after Dean and Castiel. When you finally emerge outside, Dean is guffawing while Castiel is still staring at you, dumbstruck.

You check to make sure you're no longer followed before turning to the boys. You cross your arms, partly from the cold and partly to invoke sobriety to the situation. "So you guys had your fun." You drawl, trying to avoid looking at Castiel lest you start laughing again.

"Whew! It's been a long time since I laughed that hard." Dean sighs in contentment. He struts towards his car and leans over the hood. "It's been more than a long time. It's been _years_."

You're temporarily distracted by the latter comment and inwardly decide to address it at a later date, but for now, you veer your focus back to the original line of questioning. "Wanna explain to me why the two of you've been in cahoots lying to me?"

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell says cahoots?"

Your eyes flash scathingly at the man.

"It was his idea." Dean points to Cass.

Castiel finally manages to tear his eyes away from you to shoot Dean a withering look. When he turns his gaze back to you, you're surveying him expectantly. "Please understand Alice. It was not my intention to lie to you, but this is a dangerous mission. Your safety was priority. Only Dean can help me."

"Which means, technically, I wasn't lying to you."

You and Castiel turn to Dean with the same silencing expression.

Switching back to the angel, you cross your arms. "No offence, Cass. But seeing you playing around with a call girl isn't exactly convincing me of your _dangerous_ mission."

There's an irate look on his face. "I am not referring to this as the mission. I have been searching for God, and I believe I may have found someone who knows where he is, but meeting him is dangerous. Which is why, I specifically told Dean to leave you out."

"Um, guys?"

"What?" Both you and Castiel snap at Dean.

He holds up his hands. "Just wanted to let you know that it's only a few hours to sunrise. Might wanna get things ready."

Your eyes flicker to Castiel for an explanation.

There's an internal strife behind the angel's scrutiny. His gaze abruptly shifts to you. "Alice. Let us handle this. Please."

You stare at him a while then to the impala stalling meters away. "Nope!" You pivot on your heel and skip towards the car. "I call shotgun!"

* * *

 **Please Read and Review!**


	5. To Poke the Bear

"You were gonna go on a suicide mission without even consulting me?"

Dean keeps his head strictly forward as you rip into the angel.

In the back seat, Castiel tenses from the anger in your voice, unconsciously edging back into the backrest. "In order to find God, I believe it is a worthwhile risk."

You grit your teeth, your fingers scrapping across the seat as they clench into fists. Hearing the squeak of leather, Dean glances down at your hands in alarm.

"Hey! Watch the upholstery!"

You're doing all you can to keep from tearing the vehicle apart in a telekinetic fury. You take a deep breath. "Cass. You were just brought back to life a few weeks ago! And now you're going to throw it all away on a maybe chance that Raphael would know where God is? And probably less of a chance that he'll even tell us!"

Dean steals nervous glances at you from the driver's seat. "Alice. I know you're mad. We should've told you."

Castiel sends the hunter a disagreeing glower. He is ignored.

"But! Do not take it out on my baby!"

You exhale through your teeth and turn your torso back to face the front. You shake your head in disbelief. "Guys, I thought we were friends! Doomed to save the world from the apocalypse together." You gesture to the air. "Leave no man behind! That kind of thing! You don't just kamikaze off by yourself!"

There's a brief silence as neither angel nor hunter is willing to voice their rebuttal, lest they want to bear the brunt of your wrath. You glance at both men, studying their expressions. Then in a quieter voice, you ask. "Am I the only one who thinks we're friends?"

An odd silence settles in the car. Dean's eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, gauging the angel's reaction.

Castiel is pensive, seeming to find your declaration of amity a foreign subject. He looks up when he notices your waiting stare. "Alice. I appreciate your loyalty. But in this war against Lucifer, you need to stay alive. You're the last hope should we exhaust all other options. You suggested I find God, and now I may actually have a lead. I must pursue it."

Dean continues his observation with a locked jaw.

You feel sick to your stomach. "There's gotta be some other way that doesn't involve anyone martyring themselves!"

Castiel is stubbornly resolute. "It is worth the sacrifice."

Your whip around, not willing to spend another second staring at the infuriating angel. "Well then, like it or not, I'm coming along." Like hell you're just going to sit idly as Castiel throws himself to the wolves, or in this case, wolf.

Castiel grabs onto the corner of your backrest. "Raphael can end you, Alice! You're not a holy vessel like Dean."

You refuse to acknowledge his voice.

"Dean. Tell her!"

Dean shakes his head. "Oh no. I'm not getting in the middle of this. We tried leaving her out, and look at how it turned out."

The unrest that plagued you has now migrated to Castiel. "You don't understand the extent of his power. I can't protect you from him!"

Your ego swell with vindication, and you spin to face Castiel with a smile. "Not fun trying convince someone they're making a mistake, is it?"

Castiel's mouth is agape, speechless.

The car suddenly pulls to the curb and stops. Dean turns off the key in the ignition. When you and Castiel glance up to see why Dean has stopped the car, the man simply returns with a shrug. "We're here."

You look up through the driver passenger window. On the other side of the street is a giant stone building with the words 'St. Peter's Hospital' marked above the entrance. You get out of the Impala and slam the door. The vessel that Raphael used not days ago is supposedly sitting in a broken heap within that hospital. Seeing Dean's retreating form, you promptly follow him across the street. Before you can take the first steps up to the front entry, you're suddenly pulled back. Veering around, you're forced to confront the trench-coated angel, his gaze a blue storm of turmoil.

"Alice. This isn't a request. Don't go into the hospital."

You heave a sigh, peering back into his anxious eyes. Lifting your hands, you pull the disheveled lapels of his coat back into place. Castiel stares wordlessly down at you as your hands then move to straighten his collar, and finally his tie. You smile up at his inquiring regard and lightly pat his chest. "Whatever happens, Cass, we'll face it together." Without another word, you spin on your heel and head up the stairs.

XX

Dean turns the impala into the dirt driveway now overgrown with grass. "Well, that's a day I'll never get back."

Despite the preparation made for Raphael summoning at the hospital, the day was spent in quiescence. In the end, the broken vessel remained unmoving. Deciding the plan was a failure, Dean ushered you and Castiel back to the base.

You look out the window at the abandoned home meters from the driveway. When Dean takes out his keys, you get out of the car.

The night is cold, and overtop, you can feel distant clouds rolling in. You approach the home, your shoulder brushing against the wild bushes. You feel it then, the buzzing energy in the plant life. Normally, any form of flora would be shivering with excitement the moment it feels your presence, arching towards you in longing. This time, though you feel the excitement, you also feel a twinge of alarm. There is discord in the air. You shoot a warning look at the two men beside you, and they return acknowledging nods.

Castiel enters first, bringing back the guise of nonchalance. After Dean, you stride through the crumbling front door.

"Wait."

Just as Castiel raises a cautioning hand, a burst of electromagnetic energy floods the room, rippling outward in a crackling wave. The lights within the vicinity burst, and you can sense every object tethered to an electric current meeting a similar outcome. There are flashes of blue as you bring up a hand to shield your eyes from the stabbing flickers. Through your lashes, you perceive the familiar form of a man descending as jagged lines of lightning sprout in a wing like formation at his back. When the lightning finally disappears, the air is left quivering from the massive discharge of power. You bring your hand back down, getting a better look at his figure. No longer is he confined to a wheelchair, drooling and absent. This man is fully cogent, sentient, with dominance oozing from every pore. This is an archangel.

The man slides his ominous gaze towards the angel in front of you.

"Castiel." He acknowledges in a deep rumbling voice.

Castiel's face darkens. "Raphael."

The archangel takes a brief glance at the hunter before resting his attention on you. You grimace at the invisible weight. The edges of his lips twitch, almost in a deriding manner. "And the immortal."

You hold his gaze, curious of how much he knows about you.

Dean steps forward, taking Raphael's scrutiny away. "I thought you were supposed to be impressive. All you do is black out the room?"

Raphael raises his head at the impudent remark. "And the eastern seaboard." His glower switches to Castiel. "It is a testament to my unending mercy that I don't smite you here and now."

You bristle at his words, digging your fingers into your palms to keep yourself from stepping between them. You're thankful when Dean speaks up in the angel's defense.

"Or maybe you're full of crap. Maybe you're afraid that God will bring Cass back to life again, and smite you, you candy ass skirt." He throws Raphael a sneering salute. "By the way, hi, I'm Dean."

In this moment do you truly marvel at Dean's tenacity. If you all make it out of this alive, you vow to buy the man all the pie he wants.

Raphael studies the hunter with a calculated show of amusement. "I know who you are. And now, thanks to him," his eyes flicker to Castiel condemningly, "I know where you are."

Castiel tenses. "You won't kill him. You wouldn't dare."

"But I will take him to Michael."

You watch the exchange with trepidation.

Dean, now completely invested in his brazen façade of reckless abandon, continues to spin his mocking commentary. "Well, that... sounds terrifying." He saunters to the cooler lying near the corner of the room. He flips open the lid and plucks out a bottle. "It does. But, uh, I hate to tell you..." He unscrews the cap and takes a drink, every angle of his form daring the archangel to challenge him. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Raphael scrutinizes the hunter from head to toe. His lips twitch into a smirk when his eyes flash with discovery. "Surely you remember Zachariah giving you stomach cancer."

Dean looks away. Although a grin is plastered his face, there's a sharp strain in his eyes. "Yeah. That was- that was hilarious." He passes Raphael a jeering smile.

"Yes well. He doesn't have anything close to my imagination."

"Oh yeah?" Dean continues to goad, but his voice is steeper now.

Raphael walks forward, his authority looming.

One step.

Two steps.

Almost there.

Three steps.

"I bet you didn't imagine one thing." Dean's grin widens.

The archangel narrows his eyes. "What?"

"We knew you were coming, you stupid son of a bitch." Dean takes out his lighter and flicks the spark wheel. A small flame erupts, and he tosses the lighter onto the floor. A line of oil trails the wooden planks as the fire gorges on the fuel, racing back to the start in a perfect circle. Almost instantly, the flames erupt and surge upwards, ignited with the touch of angelic energy. Raphael is trapped.

Unadulterated surprise etches across the archangel's face. He turns a scathing glare towards the hunter.

Dean feels a sudden chill. The unprecedented success in their plan temporarily quells his bravado. He shrinks back from Raphael's rage. "Hey, don't look at me. It was his idea." He passes the blame to Castiel, to which the angel returns with a blank stare.

You bring a hand to your face. Scratch that. You're not buying him pie.

Both men quickly restore their attention to their highly dangerous and temporarily trapped foe.

Castiel is the first to act. "Where is he?"

Raphael sneers. "God? Didn't you hear? He's dead."

You exchange bewildered looks with Dean. Castiel is still midst of processing.

The condescending seraph continues his spiel. "There's no other explanation. He's gone for good."

"You're lying!" You blurt out before you realize, turning the room's attention on you.

The archangel regards you in amusement before his eyes turn bitter. "Am I?" He turns his focus to Castiel. "Do you remember the 20th century? Think the 21st is going to be any better? You think God would let any of that happen if he were alive?"

The words are lost in your throat. You know he's wrong, but your mind is a mess of half-formed rebuttals and rejections. Beside you, Castiel's resolve dithers. You can see the growing doubt pressing into his shoulders like dead weight.

Dean steps forward, seeming to reclaim his former arrogance at his friend's wavering will. "Oh yeah? Well then who invented the Chinese basket trick?"

You throw the man a blanched look. He ignores you.

Raphael's lips twitch. "Careful. That's my father you're talking about, boy."

Dean scoffs. "Yeah. Who would be so proud to know that his sons started the friggin' apocalypse."

Raphael's eyes flare with rage, no longer willing his keep his reticence. "Who ran off and disappeared? Who left no instructions and a world to run?"

"So daddy ran away and disappeared. He didn't happen to work for the post office, did he?"

Castiel shoots the hunter a look, the man was treading on thin ice.

Raphael stares at Dean incredulously. "This is funny to you? You're living in a godless universe!"

"And? What, you and the other kids just decide to throw an apocalypse while he's gone?"

Dean's words strike a chord as a twinge of genuine pain flashes across Raphael's face. "We're tired! We just want it to be over." His shoulders wilt. "We just want…" He swallows. "Paradise."

Your mind reels.

What?

What did the archangel just say?

"So, what? God dies and makes you the boss, and you think you can do whatever you want?"

Raphael discards his prior vulnerability. "Yes. And whatever we want, we get."

You stare in utter disbelief at the archangel in front of you. His recent words sit in a repetitive clang within your head.

He feels tired. The archangel feels… _tired_. A being free from mortal suffering, death and disease is feeling _tired_.

No matter how many times you rerun his words you just don't understand it. You _can't_ understand it.

Because Raphael and the other angels feel _tired_ , they decide to end all life on Earth so they didn't have to work anymore?

Something bubbles inside you. A boiling white hot emotion that you've never felt in such intensity.

Anger. Madness. Sheer blind **fury**.

How can he? How **dare** he?

The room seems to reverberate with the seething outpour of your emotions.

Raphael looks to you with an expression akin to surprise.

"You're tired?" Your voice carries a ringing projection across the room, mixed with a pitch that is not your own. You think you hear Dean utter a 'what the fuck is going on', but you're too preoccupied at the moment to notice.

However subtle, Raphael edges back. His voice, on the other hand, carries the same entitled tone. "Do not make light of us, _Wikkōn_. Do you think it is an easy job to watch over humanity? To constantly observe the wretched and deplorable acts you humans enact on one another?" He sends a scathing glare towards Dean. "This race was doomed to damnation at the moment of their conception. We're just speeding up the process-"

There is a ripping sound around you, and you're suddenly pelted by wind and rain. You ignore it. "You think you're fit to judge humanity?!"

Raphael seems more distracted by the abrupt change in his surroundings than you are. His eyes shift warily about him. "Of course." He hisses. "I have been watching the bumbling race since they first crawled out of the mud and every insufferable moment since. We all have."

Another loud crack pierces everyone's eardrums, echoing your outrage at his reply and startling the arrogant seraph at the center of your vision. "Then you clearly have not been paying close enough attention, you blind, imperious fool!"

"Be careful how you speak to me, immortal!" Raphael barks out. "You may have gained favor with Michael, but that does not grant you privilege to address me with such disrespect-"

"Raphael!" Your boom cuts his rant short. You take a menacing step forward. The flames encircling the archangel lean back from your approach, thrown by the tempest that seem to emanate from your form.

Raphael's eyes dart towards the blazing circle, anticipation dancing across his face as he watches the flames waver. His excitation is soon met with disappointment when the cage holds. He begrudgingly turns his attention back to you. "Why do you defend them? Do you not remember how they tortured the other immortals? The horrendous deeds they committed against your kind?" The seraph's words turn cold. "If anyone should carry the title of the fool it should be you. To hold the humans with such esteem after all the things they've done." His lips curl into a snide smirk. "You must be a glutton for punishment."

A blast of wind slices across the room. Raphael twitches. Bringing a hand to his cheek, he touches a trickle of blood dripping from the nick below his eye. Inspecting the fluid with an odd realization, his gaze flashes to you in a mixture of shock and accusation.

"Yes. Humans are weak and fragile. They fear what they don't know and can't comprehend. They're easily swayed by lies and selfish desires if only to drown themselves in false comforts until they're blind with depravity. But! Of all the things they do, they do because of their need to _survive_! What is human, if not to hunger, to fear, to suffer disease, pain, doubt, and death? And even then, despite all their faults, all the depravity, there are those who continue to love, to sacrifice, to aide, and to save. Yes, the twentieth century was wrought with humanities darkest moments. But among that void, did you not see the sparks of their valiance? The ones who stood against the tidal wave of fear and adversity, and at great personal cost." Your chest heaves from the tempest of unexpressed emotions. "Were you watching them, Raphael? Did you really see them? Did you hear their prayers and their cries?"

The archangel bristles. "They were granted passage into heaven!"

"You think they even cared about heaven at those times? They were crying out for their loved ones! Begging to see their families and friends one last time while praying for their safety! They are the proof that in spite of all their weakness there is _strength_. For those who endure, those who fight and struggle to rise above the muck. That is the true testament to humanity! And you, who have never once lived and suffered as a human, dare cast judgement on their existence! Dare trivialize their struggles and dare extinguish their lives all for your own leisure!"

A resounding blast booms overhead as the roof is ripped off its frame. Storm and lightning pour into the room. To the archangel's dismay, the rain does not reach his ring of fire. He only stares up at you in speechless defiance. No longer does Raphael appear eminent in his angelic prowess. His air of majesty is melted away in your scathing reprimand, reducing his image to that of a whining child. But you're not finished. The inferno within you still scorches. Until you burn the seraph to cinders, you don't believe you'll be able to quell your anger.

"Alice." A hand grips onto your right arm, and you turn your glower to whomever touched you.

Your rage immediately recedes when you see Castiel looking up at you.

"Come back down." His voice is pleading, but firm.

Confused, you stare at the blue eyed angel, then to the ground lying meters beneath your feet. You've been floating in midair. Looking around the room once more, you begin to take notice of the havoc you've unleashed on this house. Windows shattered, floors cracked, walls torn, and a gaping hole in the roof above you. To your left, Dean is pressed against the partition that divides the living room from the main entrance. There's a look of pure awe on his face, saddled with a touch of fear. You can feel your powers recoil. You didn't know you were subjecting both Dean and Castiel to the brunt of your fury as well. You begin to fall, Castiel's hand securing you by the arm on the way down. You slide him an apologetic glance. When he sees that you're more or less in control, he turns his attention back to Raphael.

"If what you say is true, and God really is dead, then why have I returned?"

The seraph almost flinches at Castiel's voice, having had his aghast gaze fixed on you. His eyes shift hesitantly to the angel at your side. Castiel stands steady, seeming to have regained much of his confidence.

There is a brief pause as Raphael struggles to find his voice. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?" Even then, there is a trembling tenor in his pitch.

Castiel narrows his eyes, his hold on your arm tightening. "No."

"Think about it." Raphael's voice grows stronger with each word. "He needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up."

You think Castiel is about to object, but to your surprise, he settles his ardent gaze on you, softening as they linger there. He closes his eyes and lets out a soundless sigh.

"Let's go." The commanding tone in his voice is meant more for the idle hunter standing to the other side of you. Dean snaps out of his daze.

"Castiel." Raphael rasps out. "I'm warning you. Do not leave me here. I will find you."

To abstain from relapsing into a blind rage, you train your focus on the blue-eyed angel next to you. Castiel turns his head ever so slightly, sending the archangel the coldest look you've ever seen him show. His next few words make your jaw drop.

"Maybe one day. But today, you're my little bitch."

Castiel slides his hold from your arm to your hand, tugging your shell shocked form along as he makes his departure with exquisite poise. Behind you, you hear Dean remark with a "what he said" before he quickly follows after you.

XXX

"You really tore him a new asshole! I mean did you see the look on his face?! It was like he was about to wet himself!" Dean guffaws, slapping the steering wheel in hysterics. "Man, I really doubted you before about the whole trapping Lucifer thing. But now? Ha-ha! I bet you could take the guy on with a hand tied behind your back!" He reaches out and slaps an approving hand on your shoulder, shaking you a bit.

It's been hours since you all abandoned Raphael in the ring of holy fire. The whole drive from the house Dean had been singing praises of the way you ripped in the archangel. While his commentary was supposed to commend you, it, instead, did the exact opposite. Not only did it remind you of just how little control you had over your powers, you realized you could have injured Dean or Castiel in your momentary lapse. While the end resulted in a rather favorable outcome, you couldn't help but dread what could have been.

And to further sour your mood, Raphael's words would not leave your conscience. It was what he truly felt, what the other angels truly felt. You've never been so let down, so distraught. You realized much of these feelings were emanating from the still separate entity deep within you. It was Lyss who burst forth, lashing out in rage at Raphael. You only mirrored her sentiments, driving both your and her emotions into the same rampaging current.

You pull at the annoyingly long bunches of your hair. They had grown again to the same troublesome length as when you first woke up in Bobby's panic room. Lyss's outrage must have triggered the transformation. You grind your teeth in frustration, the previous anger now gone, leaving behind a mass of misery and distress. You still cannot understand how he could feel the way he did. How he could say the things he did. Your eyes begin to sting.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean passes glances at you while taking a right turn. He does a double take when he sees your expression. "Are you crying?!"

You bring an arm to your face, rubbing your tearing eyes angrily against the sleeve. "No, I'm not!"

Dean switches from you to the road and to the equally alarmed Castiel sitting silently in the back seat. "You totally are! Why?"

"Dammit!" You bring both hands to your face in frustration. "Stop the car!"

Before Dean can even react, the wheels of the Impala pull to a screeching halt. Had your telekinetic wave not also push the two passengers against their seats, the hunter and the angel would be flying through the windshield. Dean sits stunned as his hands hover frozen over his steering wheel, still trying to process what just happened. You quickly push against the car door and step outside. Through the waterworks and the dark, you're able to make out the rocky shores that lined against a bay. Despite the silence, you can feel Castiel's presence appearing behind you. A few seconds later is the slamming of the car door as Dean finally gets out of the car and walks up to you. There's pregnant silence, and you imagine the two are in a wordless exchange behind you. A troubled sigh is released before Dean takes a spot next to you.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong?"

You turn an irritated glance to the hunter, hot tears now streaming down your cheeks.

Dean is taken aback.

"Raphael and his stupid legion of angels! That's what's wrong!"

Dean recoils from the volume, full of discomfort. He usually leaves the weeping damsel-comforting to Sam, but the man isn't here right now, and you aren't exactly a damsel. "Well, what can I say? Angels are dicks." He pauses to send Castiel an unapologetic look of concession.

You shake your head bitterly. "But how could they? How could he not see? All those people who try so hard every day to live, to do better!" You're beginning to blubber, and you scrape your sleeve across your face again. "Even when all the odds are stacked against them. People still try! Why can't they see how admirable that is?!"

Dean rubs the back of his neck, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. He reaches out and pats you gently on the back. "Cheer up, 'kay? Don't let that pompous asshole get to you."

You take a sideways glance at the hunter, pausing as an idea forms. Then, with a large influx of air, you turn back towards the bay and scream out. "RAPHAEL! YOU'RE A POMPOUS ASSHOLE!"

The cry shocks both men. Dean almost jumps a full foot of the ground. With a hand over his heart, he mutters under his breath. "Jesus Christ."

You take another deep breath. "AND LUCIFER CAN SUCK IT! I'LL SEAL YOUR ASS UP BACK TO YOUR CAGE!" You shoot another sideway glance at the hunter, and there's a growing look of amusement on his face. With a half grin, he takes a deep breath and veers towards the same dark body of water.

"YOU HEAR THAT, YOU ASSHATS! ALICE AND DEAN WINCHESTER'S GONNA STOP ALL OF YOU! WE'LL BEAT YOUR FRIGGIN APOCALYPSE!"

Dean's fervent cry makes you smile, and you look to him in gratitude. Turning back to the horizon, you send out one last screaming message. "WE'LL NEVER LET YOU WIN! WE'RE GONNA PROTECT IT! ALL OF IT!" You lean back, panting, feeling relieved and somewhat euphoric. You spin around to face the two men with a grin, smacking your hands to your cheeks. "I mean it, guys! I love this world, flaws and all! I love you, Dean, and you, Cass!"

Dean shoots you weird look while Cass stares at you flatly.

"And Sam, and Maggie, and Bobby! And everyone I've met and will meet! I won't let them destroy it!" You fling your arm outward with exhilaration. And at the peak of your impulsive jubilation, you suddenly feel the drop. Your vision begins to sway, and you hear Dean's voice of alarm. The whole world tips in one direction, and you move swiftly towards the ground. But the impact never comes, for something catches you. "I'm definitely gonna protect it all…." You mumble one last declaration as your vision fades to black.

* * *

 **Please Read and Review!**


	6. To Leap Before You Look

~With Castiel~

Looking for God was not easy. Even with Dean's talisman, Castiel felt as though he was chasing his own shadow. Keeping his senses primed for any anomalies or miracles in every corner of the world, he flung himself across continents, traveling from the eastern hemisphere to the west, then the north to the south. Each time Castiel got a flicker of warmth from the talisman, he would expand his awareness to the limits. And yet, the warmth would vanish in an instant, leaving him destitute.

God, his _father_ , must have known that he was searching for him. And for some inexplicable reason, he was doing whatever he could to evade the angel. Why wasn't God revealing himself? In a time when he was needed more than anything. Was this a test? After bringing him back, was he testing his faith, his endurance? Castiel grew increasingly restless. The constant fruitless searches were beginning to shake his will. Never a single lead could be found… until he crossed paths with Theliel again.

The angel had transported himself to the middle of a busy sidewalk in downtown Shanghai. When he was progressing over the continent, he thought he felt a glimmer from the amulet and propelled himself towards the city below. When he landed, the glimmer was gone, prompting him to wonder if he had only imagined it. Looking up, his eyes searched aimlessly among the crowd. The sea of people that migrated to and fro hardly gave him a passing glance. Castiel knew full well the simple scan would yield no results, but then something caught his eye. A few yards in front of him, someone familiar was walking away. Jet black hair pulled back in wild and rough strokes, the shine dancing off her wine red jacket…. He was next to her in an instant, grabbing the girl by the arm.

She spun around in alarm. "Gan ma?"

Castiel faltered, dithering in the place he stood. This wasn't her. Of course, it wasn't her. Why would Alice suddenly appear halfway across the world?

The girl pulled off her headphones with her free hand, sending him a glare. She jerked her arm out of his grip. "Ni shi she ah? Gan ma zhua wo?"

Castiel frowned, dipping his head in apology. "Dui bu qi. Ren cuo ren le."

Her face twisted with suspicion. With a tsk, she tossed her head back and continued on her way, muttering the words "Gian gui."

The angel turned around, feeling rattled by his own actions. Eyeing the narrow walkway into a dingy alley, he forced his way through the crowd and disappeared between two buildings. When Castiel allowed himself to emerge, he had traveled back to the western continent.

It was dark, and the sun had long set over the western hemisphere. The angel was quite certain he was only a few cities away from where Alice would be. He looked towards the horizon, his instincts calling out to it, to the direction where she'd be. His insides grew cold at the thought. Steering in the opposite direction, Castiel compelled himself to focus on other matters. But then he stopped, having only taken a few steps. His head slid back to the skyline. How was Alice fairing? It had been a few days since he last visited her. Her powers were still new. What if she needed help… what if she needed **him**? His jaw locked, the idea was wholly enticing. After all, since being brought back, he hasn't been able to drive her from his mind. He could check up on her, just to verify that she was doing all right. It could quiet the distractions…

Turning 180, he set off on his trajectory, his thoughts mulling back to the reunion with Alice.

Lyss had lied… which could be too severe a denouncement. But she _was_ wrong. Castiel recalled the woman's startling remark.

 _~…"You needn't worry about the emotions you've developed for Alice. They should be gone now that I have taken back that piece of my soul."…~_

But they weren't.

When Lyss had retrieved her soul fragment, he was _relieved_ to have the burden of it lifted from him. He couldn't comprehend the constant buzzing in his head that would endlessly trail his thoughts to Alice, to her voice, her jeering, her eyes, her touch…. And so when Castiel was informed that all these _symptoms_ were caused not by his own inclinations, but of an exterior force, he thought he was _cured_. Every bit of unease, confusion, and doubt disappeared with her diagnosis. He thought he was free.

Until it all came rushing back the moment Alice called out his name. The way she threw her arms around him, the pure elation in her voice at the sight of him….

True, the electric surge he felt was no longer there. But what had arrived in its place…

Castiel swallowed hard at the memory.

The brush of her fingers on the back of his neck, the thinness of her wrists, the curve of her back…. Every contact sent a wave of warmth through him, a thrill like tingle that made him marvel at the smallest details of her form. And when he held her there, pressed against his arm and chest, did he realize how soft, how sweetly scented, and how utterly alluring this creature was.

It was lunacy.

Castiel pulled to a stop, materializing in the parking lot of a department store only a mile away from Alice's location. The place was devoid of any signs of life, save for the moths fluttering around the streetlight behind him. Castiel stood rooted to the ground. What was he doing? He was an angel, a soldier of the Lord. His sole reason for existence was to protect and oversee humanity. Nothing else. And in such dire conditions, he couldn't afford to entertain such distractions. It was unfitting for a celestial being to develop any form of desire for another one of God's creations. It would be a violation to the fundamental sacraments of all angels.

…Wouldn't it?

Castiel clenched his fists, feeling the amulet dig against his palm. He unfurled his fingers over the small charm, his eyes burning with unrest. What was he to do? Why was all this cast upon him? Choosing to preserve humanity, being excommunicated from heaven, resurrected by God … and meeting Alice. Was it all a mistake? Or was this all a part of God's plan? An orchestration so grandiose that **He** would not even disclose to his angels.

The seraph's hand dropped to his side, his thoughts draining him.

"Castiel."

Castiel whipped around at the voice, senses alert and battle ready. The amulet was already hidden away and replaced with the hilt of his angel blade. His glower receded into that of a grim surprise when he saw who it was.

"Theliel."

The angel who donned the appearance of a school boy, who was once a member of the same garrison as Castiel, stood a few yards across from him. His face was calm, eyes cool, masking any emotion that came coupled with their encounter. They had been, after all, friends for countless millennia. "I'm not here to fight you, Castiel." Staying true to his words, Theliel remained at ease and unarmed.

Castiel lowered his blade, but kept his instincts stringent. Since his resurrection, he had engaged his brothers and sisters in a multitude of confrontations. He was doing his best to avoid realizing the amount of angel blood that was on his hands. "Then why are you here?"

"I had to see you for myself. I was told you rebelled and that Raphael had destroyed you…" An indiscernible emotion flitted across the boy's face, but it was quickly masked by his stony regard. "I won't ask why you did what you did, but I cannot protect you from the other angels."

"I would not expect you to." Castiel could never wish the things he had endured for the past few weeks on any of the angels. Least of all, Theliel.

"Castiel, these have been… confusing times. I may not be able to disobey my orders, but I am willing to overlook them for the moment."

Castiel angled his head a degree, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I know who you're searching for, and I would like to help."

Castiel drew back. Were his actions so predictable? Were the other angels aware? His suspicions bubbled, urging the grip on his blade to tighten. "How do you know?"

There's a ghost of a scoff on the young man's face. "We've been working side by side for eons. Besides..." His eyes trailed to ground. "It's what I would do, if our positions were reversed."

A certain tension dissipated when Castiel heard those words. Was it hope he felt? He visibly relaxed, eyes brimming with rekindled comradery. "Theliel…. Thank you."

Theliel's eyes steeled. "You may want to hold onto your gratitude. I have information that may provide you with a lead, but you're not going to like it."

At this point, Castiel was willing to take anything. However, he mentally prepared himself for the worst. "I'll take my chances."

Theliel drew out a short breath. "It's Raphael. He's been dwelling on Earth for the past few weeks. Rumor has it that he's been chasing after God as well, and that he has located him. He was battling against a legion of demons in a small town in Maine a weeks ago, his vessel remains in the area."

All mental faculties came to a halt. The lead was Raphael? The same archangel who incinerated him only weeks ago?

"Will you still pursue this?"

Of course he would. He had to. It wasn't a question of will. But still….

 _~…"Castiel." Alice utters a little breathlessly and throws her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. "You're all right!"…~_

Castiel grits his teeth, tearing himself from the memory.

"Castiel?"

"Yes. I will pursue it." He rasped, if only to prevent himself from being swallowed by his memories, the memories he didn't want or need, and certainly not the sentiments that pooled from them. He was an angel. He must fulfill his function. …Or he will die trying.

"I see." The disheartened words brought Castiel from his thoughts. "I suppose there isn't much use in deterring you then." Theliel threw a studying glance at his former comrade-at-arms. Both men held an air of acquiescence. "If we both survive the days to come, I would like to fight alongside you again, brother."

The habitual frown on Castiel's face wavered. He almost smiled, albeit a painful smile. The angel could not express how much those words meant to him. "I, too, would like that very much… brother."

With one more lingering stare that signaled a silent farewell, Theliel disappeared. Castiel was left once again to his musings, drawing a bleak monotonous lull over him. He was going to face Raphael again, at the risk of certain doom, and he was brought back only a short time ago. He wondered how Alice would react when she learned of this. Castiel frowned. She would surely do everything she could to stop him. He was mildly surprised at how certain he was of his predictions. He wouldn't tell her of course. Should Alice get involved, it would only put her at risk.

Castiel froze, feeling hollow. This would mean their meeting in the panic room was their last. The realization weighed into him, pulling his spirits deep under. But she would be safe, if she stayed away. Now that Alice had served her purpose in releasing Lucifer, there was no assurance that the other angels wouldn't just do away with her should they deem her a nuisance.

The possibility of Raphael scorching her away, just like the archangel had to done to him… Castiel shook his head, unable to stomach the idea. He was resolute. Alice shall remain in the dark.

But to track down Raphael's vessel, and to lure the archangel, Castiel would need help. Perhaps the Winchesters? This would be a near suicide mission. If not Sam, then certainly Dean. The man was the vessel for Michael, the strongest of all archangels. Raphael wouldn't dare lay a hand on him. Firming his decision, he turned towards the direction of the last address Dean provided him and vanished.

When Castiel landed, he posited himself outside the motel. He felt the air for Alice's presence. For some reason, even with the sigil shielding her from him, he could still feel whenever she was close. This time however, Alice was nowhere near the vicinity. Good. He had to make this quick.

Dean was less than optimistic to see the angel, and even more so when Castiel relayed his proposal.

"So, what- I'm Thelma and you're Louise, and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?"

Castiel never got the reference.

Dean abandoned the allusion and moved to pour himself a drink. "Give me one good reason why I should do this."

"Because you're Michael's vessel, and no angel would dare harm you."

"Oh, so I'm your bullet shield?"

The angel's eyes hardened. He took a foreboding step forward. "I need your help because you're the only one who will help me."

Dean edged back from the intensity of Castiel's glower.

"Please."

The guilt that plagued Dean was back. He inwardly squirmed under the raw sincerity behind the angel's eyes. Finally, the hunter relented. "All right, fine." He reached for the phone in his pocket. "I'll call Alice."

"No." Castiel grabbed onto the man's forearm. "Alice must never know of this."

Dean scrunched his face at the angel's severity. "What? Why?"

"Should I fail in my quest to find God, Alice could be the only recourse in stopping Lucifer. If we bring her along, Raphael would destroy her."

The hunter considered Castiel's words, lowering the phone back into his pocket. "So what? We just leave her here? Isn't she on the top of Lucifer's list?"

Castiel retracted his hand, hesitatingly pensive. "Since Lucifer's rising, demons and angels have been skirmishing across the globe. With this preoccupation and Alice's growing prowess, she should be safe for the next few days. Raphael is far more lethal to her than any demon, even a legion of demons."

"Okay, all right. But what am I supposed to tell her? She's not gonna just sit back while I'm gone without a legitimate reason."

Castiel cocked his head in almost derisive manner. "Then give her a legitimate reason. Make up something believable, so long as she doesn't follow us and finds out."

Dean threw him a peeved look. "Of course. Lying. Why didn't I think of that?" Looking around, he reached for the pen and notepad on the table. Ripping out the research notes he had taken for his earlier hunt, he started to scribble something down. "I'll go along with it, but it's your ass on the line."

The angel stared impassively at the scrawled note before Dean tore it out to set it on the table. "As long as Alice doesn't find out."

And of course, she _did_ find out.

It was quite the curious stroke of luck for Alice to have a friend working in the exact same city of their undertaking and in the exact same _bar_ they would visit. Having her catch him in the most compromising situation he had ever experienced was not how Castiel imagined his last night on Earth panning out. And he was right, as expected. Once the proverbial cat was out of the bag, Alice simply would not be benched as they decided to face off with the archangel. It was a near miracle that all three of them would leave the operation completely unscathed.

Interestingly enough, through the incident, Castiel caught glimpse of something he never dreamt possible. When Alice set loose her rage, he saw _fear_ in the archangel's eyes. Raphael had felt _afraid_ ; he had felt vulnerable. Castiel realized in that moment that the Raphael he and so many angels grew to dread was not without weakness; he was _not_ indestructible.

Dean's exclamation dislodged his dark thoughts.

Alice was _crying_.

Any callous tenacity the angel held unraveled in an instant.

Why was she crying? Was she injured? Did Raphael hurt her? Before Castiel could hold out a hand to her, an eruption of telekinetic energy blew him back, gripping him to his seat. Alice latched the car to a standstill and pushed herself out. She ran towards the shore of a small bay. Before he realized, he had appeared behind her. What was he going to do? She wasn't physically hurt, he knew that now. But what did he know of comforting the emotionally distressed? The only thing he was sure of was how completely helpless he felt. He didn't like her crying. His hand reached out to her…

The slamming of the car door woke Castiel. He saw his out-stretched hand. What was he going to do? The angel quickly dropped it.

When Dean arrived, he seemed equally clueless. Sending Castiel a few glances, he then jerked his head in Alice's direction. Whatever Dean was trying to convey was lost in translation as Castiel only stared on blankly. After a few grueling seconds of silent flailing, Dean threw his hands up in a wordless surrender. He stepped up to Alice and commenced his awkward consolation.

As they listened to her rebuttal, her words struck a chord in Castiel. Alice was right. The angels had spent so long watching the births and deaths of humankind that they weren't _seeing_ anymore. When did they start to lose interest in humanity's virtues? The angels had been so focused on the suffering and death that they've overlooked so much mankind's wonder, their fortitude, and their moments of sagacity.

Castiel watched the immortal, his eyes brightening as he felt the same marvel he experienced millenniums ago when he first laid eyes on the humans. The way she cried so shamelessly with her whole heart for the world, the way she continued to bear such unshakable loyalty for the race, the way her words and voice echoed her resilience across the dark waters... It was strangely uplifting. Castiel stared on in a trance like daze.

Alice abruptly spun around, smacking her cheeks red with her hands. She was speaking nonsense now, declaring her love for Dean and the angel, and all the other names that rolled off her tongue. But then she started to sway, her eyes losing their focus. Castiel broke forward, but Dean was a second quicker. Just as Alice plummeted face first, the hunter caught her. Lying her down, he gave her a gentle shake.

Castiel approached, bending down next to the girl. His eyes peered into the core of her body. There were two distinct energies within her, shifting colors pushing and melding into one another. Alice was in midst of another physical transition. She was finally starting to integrate her powers.

"Alice! Shit! What's wrong?"

The angel held out a hand to calm the man. "She's fine. Just fatigued. Her body is adapting to the changes of her abilities."

Dean mouthed a silent 'oh', noticing an odd tenderness in the angel's features.

Castiel placed a hand under Alice's back, pulling her away from Dean and into his own arms. He was careful to gather her obscenely long hair. Once the immortal was secure, he turned in the direction of the Impala. As he settled the girl in the backseat, Dean was watching him with a bemused scrutiny.

Castiel closed the car door as gently as he could. "We should leave. Even with the sigil's protection, it may not have been the wisest decision to call out Lucifer's name. Not to mention any demons that could be in the vicinity."

Dean smirked, but gave his surroundings a hard look. Swinging the driver's side door open, he slid inside. Castiel took the seat next to him. Revving up the engine, the hunter backed the car onto the asphalt road and steered forward.

"So…." Dean drew out the word with slurred suggestiveness. "When did you start _feeling_ Alice?"

Castiel dithered, glancing back at the sleeping girl then turning a confused look to the hunter. "I am not touching her."

Dean chuckled. "Right now you're not."

The angel hesitated, perplexed but apprehensive. "I don't understand what you mean."

That comment provoked another laugh. Dean pitched his friend a sly look. "Hey, I saw the way you looked at her. No need to hide it. It's not like she can hear you now." At the angel's blank face, realization dawned on the hunter. He studied Castiel with raised brows. "You really have no idea?"

Further silence.

Dean snorted, grinning into the road ahead. "Dude. You like her." He prods the angel with shrewd glances. "I mean, you _like_ like her."

Castiel's expression turned to ice, surprising the hunter. No amount of denial was able to shield the angel from the bluntness of that declaration. However, hearing those words brought about a certain weight, resonating with a clarity that could only be evoked by the truth. Through the revelation, he was suddenly painfully aware of his angel duties. His mission was first and foremost and always will be to God and his creations. To stray from that, all because he started to develop sentiments for a girl, a _Wikkōn_ of all beings, would not only be selfish, but a betrayal to all that he was.

It was like staring into the abyss, all the while shackled to the edge. Castiel knew there were dangers that lurked just beyond, but he couldn't help feel tempted. This was his line, and he knew he must not cross it.

His insides turned cold.

Dean slapped a hand on the angel's shoulder. "Relax. I'll give ya a hand. I'll be your personal wingman. Alice'll be putty in your hands before you know it."

"She can't know." Castiel sent the man cautioning glare.

Dean's humor fell a notch. "Why not?"

The angel turned his hardened gaze forward. "I won't explain my reasons. She simply can't. We have more important things to focus on."

Dean made a face, clearly disappointed with the outcome. And he was so looking forward to all the hilarious situations he would jam the awkward angel in. "That's too bad. I know Alice likes you." He peered over to gauge Castiel's reaction. True to Dean's expectations, the angel was frozen, his previous frown dislodged by the blank surprise that now resided over his features. A second later, Castiel vanished.

The hunter grinned and switched his attention back to the road.

XXX

A few days have passed since the incident with Raphael, and a certain angel is currently standing on top of a hill in North Wales. To the west, he can see the St. Georges channel rippling forth a wall of fog. He passes his eyes along the rolling contours of the earth, feeling the hum of heavenly energy that once laid abundant on this land. This place is, after all, where Eden first touched Earth.

Castiel knows he isn't going to have much luck finding God here, but the lull of Eden's residual powers is comforting. Now that he's exiled from Heaven, he's lost all visiting rights to the one place he could relax in. He will have to make do with these empty green pastures. Castiel lets out a heavy sigh, feeling withered.

After what Dean had unveiled, the angel sent himself away to avoid any further contact with Alice. To distract himself, he continued to scour the Earth for his _Father_. But during moments of crippling emptiness, he would search out demons and other dark creatures in order to burn his unrest into their charred remains.

Unwittingly, Castiel is once again turned to the direction of where she'd be. He can feel her presence beckoning him from miles away. He closes his eyes, resisting it all.

 _…_ _Castiel..._

The angel's eyes shoot open. It's her voice. Castiel falters. Are his desires so strong that they're beginning to manifest auditory illusions?

 _Castiel..._

The voice comes again, stronger this time. Could it be? Is Alice actually calling him?

 _Dammit, Cass! Answer already! I need your help!_

There's no mistake. Without another thought, the angel abandons the lush hills. When he reappears, he's standing in the corner of a new lodging. Unlike their previous motel rooms, this residence not only has better lighting, but the décor and furnishings are clearly of a higher grade. The only objects that blemish the room's pristine appearance are the mess of papers, books, and notes strung across one of the twin beds. His eyes continue to scan the abode until they land on what they're searching for.

Alice spins around, her face beams when she catches sight of him. "Cass! You came!"

The angel is still, studying the girl's form. She had cut her hair, falling like black silk to her waist. He can smell her flowery scent from across the room. "Why did you call me? You sounded urgent."

Alice is docile in an instant. A sheepish grin pulls across her lips. "Uh, right. We're not in danger or anything, but I do need help with something."

Castiel relaxes, only to have tension grab him again when he realizes they're alone. The angel glances around the room, prompting a curious Alice to do the same.

"Where's Dean?"

"Huh? Oh." The wariness in her eyes fade. "He's out. It's his turn to buy dinner."

Castiel steels himself, firmly gluing his eyes away from her. This isn't good. Now that he knows, now that he's aware of these sentiments, everything about her seems to entice him. He swallows hard.

"Look, Cass. I'm sorry for calling you while you're looking for God. I know how important that is to you."

The dejection in her voice draws his gaze. Her eyes are downcast, brimming with apprehension. She must have mistaken his tension for impatience. With all his power, he suppresses the need to touch her.

"If there was any other way, I would have finished it myself, but I can't." Alice looks up, her gaze determined. "Not without your help."

Castiel is completely still. He's going to lose. He can feel himself inching towards the edge. With just those words, she pools all of his desires to a singularity. Whatever it is, whatever she wants, he would help her get it.

Lunacy.

Castiel reels in his mind, repulsed by his own lack of restraint. Before Alice would notice his delayed response, he mentally shakes himself into focus. "What do you need?"

Alice's expression softens, relieved to find his cooperation. She looks away, her thoughts causing her brows to crease. "Ever since our confrontation with Raphael, I was worried that I might lose control of myself again. Even though things turned out okay that day, I'm afraid the next time I snap, the people around me might get hurt." She grimaces, imagining some dire possibility. When the thought passes, she brings her gaze back to the angel. "I found a spell. It can act as a seal to restrain my powers until the changes in my body are fully cohesive. It's a relatively simple one, but the ingredients are difficult to come by. Even with Bobby's connections, no one has any in stock." She turns around and searches through a few of the papers scattered on her bed. Finding the one she needs, she spins back to show the angel. "The first two ingredients are a pint of my blood and a piece of pure silver metal- that one I was able to find easily enough. The rest is where you come in."

At her pointed look, Castiel nods.

"I need water from the fountain of youth and a branch from a tree called the Llangernyw Yew, it's apparently one of the oldest trees in the world. Do you think you could get them?"

Castiel deliberates. The second is simple. The Llangernyw Yew still stands in North Wales, where he had just been, a faded embodiment of Eden's fertility. The first, however, is much harder. It's highly likely that the fountain has already run dry.

Unknown to most people, the legend of the fountain of youth was true. However, like all legends, certain facts were misconstrued. Firstly, the fountain was not a spring but a lake. Secondly, although the water does grant immortality, drinking or bathing in the water does not in fact bestow eternal youth. In reality, the water was the work of faerie enchantment concocted by mischievous fey folk who wanted to watch humans toil. For the individuals who succeeded in finding the fountain and drank from it did in fact achieve eternal life. However, time still chipped away at them, draining the energy and vitality from their bones. Every year they grew older, weaker, feebler, but never dying. Even as their family, friends and neighbors passed, even as their children and children's children passed, they remained. Until at last, sick with loneliness and longing, they begged the heaven's for mercy. Heaven responded, sending a bolt of lightning to the lake. The ground beneath crumbled, and the water drained away, submerged so deep underground no man would ever be able to find it again. And as the water disappeared, a second wave of lightning struck the Earth, incinerating each of the men cursed with immortality.

"I'll do what I can. When do you need them?"

Her sheepish look is back. "I need them for the eclipse." She pauses with a timid tilt of her head. "Which happens tonight."

Castiel nods. "I'll be back as soon as I can-."

"Wait! Before you leave!" Her hand shoots out to grab the angel's sleeve. "Dean told me you got a cellphone. Give it here." Alice lets go of the fabric and turns her hand palm up.

Castiel stares at the open hand for a few seconds before reaching into his pocket, producing said cellphone. He places the device hesitatingly into her hand.

Flipping the phone open, Alice then proceeds to press a series of buttons. "I know you can't find us if we don't directly call out your name. So, if you ever need to reach me, you now have my number." She turns the phone around to show him the screen. Castiel only nods obediently. He isn't going to tell her how he's still able to locate her regardless of the sigil. He only hopes he's the lone exception. Castiel sets the phone back in his pocket.

"When you get back, I'll either be here or on the roof. This is the tallest hotel I was able to find in the city, and I'll need to be as close to the moon as possible at the time of the eclipse." Alice trails off, the tension in her face tells him there's more she wants to say.

Castiel's gaze softens. "Alice. I'll be fine." He isn't sure why he said that, she didn't indicate that she was worried.

…And yet she _was_ , for that one phrase eased back her frown.

"Thanks, Cass. I owe you."

The angel departs.

XX

Castiel stares down the gaping void. Standing at the rim of sandstone, the angel extends his senses through the layers of rock. He glances at the bronze jug he lifted from a tomb in Peru, and in his other hand, a branch broken off from the ancient yew.

The first ingredient was easy enough to attain, but he had already searched a number of caves and cavities for the enchanted water only to come up emptied handed. To make matters more troublesome, Castiel was able to detect faerie magic from a number of caverns. The constant dead ends were trying, not to mention the very likelihood that the water no longer exist.

The mouth of a cave he's currently hovering over is in Abkhazia, the deepest above water cave in the world. His eyes trace to the position of the sun. It will be midnight soon where Alice is. He needs to hurry. Tightening his grip over the bronze handle, he steps off the ledge.

XX

"Oh, thank God, you made it!" Alice rushes toward Castiel, eager to alieve the man of the branch and jug. "It wasn't too difficult, I hope?"

Castiel scans his surroundings. True to her words, Alice has set up the craft on the roof of the hotel. Luckily, the one she chose did not happen to have its roof renovated for client accommodations. In the center of the summit is a moderate skylight, jutting out in a dome. A few meters to the left is the boxed entry to the staircase and a shed attached at the back. Encompassing the perimeter is a waist high wall with numerous elevated platforms. Behind her, sitting on the cement, is a large metal bowl. Drawn in red marks around it are the archaic symbols similar to what he observed in her book. His eyes dart towards the girl's hands as they enclosed over the bronze container. Alice gives the man an odd look when he refuses to let go.

"Your hand."

Alice glances down at her left palm. Sitting below her fingers is a thick wrapping of bandages. Despite the multi-layering, a red stain still permeates.

"Oh, it's nothing. The symbols needed to be drawn in my blood."

Castiel slides the branch and jug out of her hands and sets them on one of the platforms next to him. Taking her wounded hand, he slowly unravels the bandage. Alice grimaces when the gash is revealed, turning a curious gaze to him. The wound is fresh and inflamed. Gingerly, Castiel presses his right hand over the slit. As he wills his power from his hand to hers, Alice takes in a sharp breath. When he pulls away, the hand is healed.

The girl stares dolefully at the blemished skin. "Thanks, Cass."

"I may not be able to give Bobby back the use of his legs, but I can still heal minute injuries."

There's an unsettled look on her face again. But before the angel can ask, Alice jolts upright.

"Crap!" She swerves to look overhead. "It's almost time!" Snatching up the branch and jug, she hurries towards the bowl, careful not to step on the markings. After placing the branch inside, she starts to pour the enchanted water into the same container.

Castiel lifts his head to study the growing shadow that has started its crawl over the moon. Turning back, Alice is setting some small circular object into the basin. Giving a quick glance to the sky, she skips back from her circle of runes. Inhaling deeply, she starts the incantation.

Foreign words roll off her tongue, each carrying a rippling pulse of energy. As the chant continues, the symbols start to quiver. Peeling off the cement floor in long dancing twines, the runes disappear one by one. The glowing ribbons rise further into the air before they are pulled to the bowl. When the last of the markings are swallowed, a flame ruptures from the basin, engulfing the branch and sending the water into a bubbling mushroom cloud of steam. However, the vapor only rises for a few feet before it suddenly drops in a whirling vortex.

Overhead, the eclipse has passed, the crimson amber color completely washed from the pale white sphere.

Seconds tick by as the immortal and angel continue to wait.

"I guess, it's finished." Alice lets out a held breath. The two share a glance before approaching the bowl.

Sitting at the bottom of the metal basin is nothing but a simple silver band about two inches wide and two millimeters thick. All the other added contents have completely dissolved.

Alice reaches in to pick up the bracelet, pausing for a moment to feel its temperature. The metal is cool to the touch. Lifting it to her eyes, she examines her handiwork. Other than the odd energy that seems to emanate from the small trinket, the only other remanence of the spell are the symbols etched along its circumference.

Castiel studies the bracelet as Alice continues to turn it around in her hand. "Do you think it worked?"

"Only one way to find out." She slips the band over wrist.

It doesn't take long for a reaction to appear. Once in place, the bracelet gives out a hum. There is a brief flash from the symbols before a small charge rushes outwards, shooting through Alice's body. A soft glow emits from her skin, coupled with the rising heat in her bones. Only seconds later, the warmth retreats, and the glow fades.

Castiel brings out his hands, grabbing onto her arms in case of vertigo. When the girl remains steady, he starts to pull back.

"How do you feel?"

Alice blinks a few times, then studies herself in contemplation. "I think it worked." She grins at Castiel. "This is good. Now I don't have to walk on eggshells, checking my emotions all the time."

Castiel regards her with a heavy look. "I'm glad. However, be mindful that your powers are there to protect you, and now that you've restrained them, you're more vulnerable to demon attacks."

Alice nods knowingly. "Right, right. Stay with Dean, watch my back. I get it. I'll be careful."

The angel adopts an unsatisfied air, but doesn't say anything more. Tearing his eyes away from her, he takes a step back. His role in this is over, and he knows he should leave before things start to muddle his mental convictions.

"Wait!"

Castiel turns back, trying to ignore the part of him that feels elated at her impediment. "What is it?"

The earlier optimism has vanished from her visage, which now carries a somber worry. "I wanted to thank you, Cass. For coming through for us again and again, despite the heavy costs." Her fingers knead into one another. "I know things haven't been easy for you."

Castiel frowns. Where is she going with this? "You shouldn't hold yourself responsible for my decisions. I chose to stand with you, and I don't have any regrets."

Alice searches his face. "Is that really true?"

Castiel mirrors her actions, trying decipher the reasoning behind her words. Why is she bringing this up now? Is it pity she feels? Does he appear pitiful now that he's been exiled by his brothers and sisters. Castiel narrows his gaze. He doesn't like the notion. "Alice. What are you trying to say?"

Her brows crease, lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes drop to the ground, darting left and right as if looking for the correct words. Finally, she lets a surrendered sigh.

"We're worried about you, Cass."

Castiel raises his head, bristling at the comment. Before he could surmise for certain of the belittling sympathy that she must be feeling for him, her words interrupt the thought.

"You stood up against all the other angels for us. You _died_ … to help us. And that's something we'll never be able to repay. But… you don't need to keep sacrificing yourself. Please."

Castiel loses his previous rigidity. She isn't pitying him. She's referring to the confrontation with Raphael.

Alice closes her eyes. "I understand the desire to act recklessly when you feel like you've got nothing left to lose. But for goodness sake, you were just brought back!" Her hands clench. "And I know we haven't known each other that long, but after all we've been through, you're important to me."

Castiel stills, all emotion wiped from his face.

He's cornered; he's lost.

No one has ever worried so much over his wellbeing, appreciated him nor declared so vehemently that he was needed. And yet, for whatever reason, **_she_** had fussed over him, berated him and begged him to stay alive. He should have known that it would be a losing battle from the start. The sight of her honey brown eyes or the lull of her voice..., the rupture of yearning he's tried so desperately to suppress bursts forth, swallowing and burning away any self-discipline and restraint.

Her shoulders fall, irises staring up at him with complete vulnerability. "I've never had a family or many friends, so the ones I've got now mean the world to me. I am begging you, Cass. The next time you're about to risk your life, no matter how necessary you think it is, promise me that you will consult me so I can change your mind." A small bit of humor slides into her tone. "And if not, at least give you a fresher perspective." The former melancholy returns, and Alice casts her gaze to the ground again. "I can't… bear to lose you, Castiel." She trails off, sneaking a look at the angel. When the man appears unresponsive, her vulnerable demeanor morphs into one of anger.

"I mean it, Cass! If you ever decide to throw your life away without warning me, I'll never forgive y-." Before she can finish her thought, Castiel roughly grasps her face, crashing his lips over hers, effectively silencing her. Her eyes widen in surprise, taking in a sharp breath of air, only to have it stolen away a moment later. Castiel can feel her shock, but he can't stop himself. Maneuvering her backwards, he pushes her against solid wall. She isn't fighting him, but is instead yielding. And Castiel is contented to know he's well within her defensives, completely disarming her. He's never known the taste of a woman, and her mouth is so sweet. His senses strike him, coursing forth the memory of their past kiss, and how deliciously saccharine she had tasted then. The effect is immediately addicting, and he pushes forward, demanding for more. But it isn't enough. He squeezes his eyes shut, savagely grazing his lips over hers. As pleasurably as this is, as stimulating as it is, he remains utterly insatiable. He wants more, needed more. Castiel brings his hands down her cheeks, brushing her neck. What is it about this immortal that peaks his longing in all the worst ways? Is it her softness? Her supple form molding against his as he presses her into the concrete wall? Is it her scent of crisp spring after the last snow fall, or the way her eyes waver with an ocean of warmth every time he saw his reflection in them? It's agony. His hands trail to her back, running down against her spine until he reaches the gentle curve. He continues to stand there, kissing her. His lips stroke against hers so hungrily it's almost violent. As he crushes her further into him, she lets out a moan. Clearly unintentional, but the soft sound manages to drive the man completely over the edge. He'll have her, he has to. He'll keep her by his side, for eternity at his volition. He can easily drown in this feeling, deliriously, but cravingly. He would possess her, for her to be his and no one else's.

Alice turns away for air, only able to catch a brief gulp before her mouth is once again thieved by Castiel. She's starting unravel, and he can feel it. Her heat and equally wanton desire. Alice lets out another moan, lustrously content and responding to every little movement enacted by the angel. Her fingers brush against his neck. "Castiel…" She sighs.

 _~… "Do you want to protect us? Do you think humans are worth protecting?"…~_

Castiel's eyes snap open. Grasping the girl's hands, he yanks them away from his neck and pushes them into the wall.

Alice is jerked back, dazed and startled. Her chest heaves up and down with heavy pants.

The angel refuses to look her in the eyes. Why did he have to remember that particular memory? It's as though a part of him couldn't help but feel culpable of his actions, no matter how torturously gratifying they are. Castiel grimaces at the thought. The reminders of his mission and duty assail his conscience. This is wrong. He's crossed the line. He's made a mistake.

Alice traces her eyes over the angel's pained expression. "Cass…?"

Castiel grits his teeth. "I can't…."

Alice stumbles, having the pressure that trapped her suddenly removed. Her eyes search the roof, bewildered.

Castiel is gone.

Knees buckling, Alice drops to the floor. She stares out across the night sky, feeling dizzy and confused.

~Your P.O.V.~

You push against the door of your hotel room, finding all the lights still off. You flip the switch for a dim lamp light as you let the door swing to a close. You look around the space for any signs of the hunter.

Empty.

You breathe a relieved sigh, knowing you aren't ready to face Dean in your current state. You drag your feet towards your bed and throw down your bag of materials. Plopping over the mattress, you don't even bother with the papers and books that cover the sheets. You let out another sigh. Now that you have calmed down, you're realizing just how difficult and awkward things have become. You frown at the ceiling. You know you like Castiel. A lot. And while a part of you wants to seek him out right now and question him until every grain of your curiosity is satisfied, another part is repelled by the idea of facing him. You turn your head towards the far window, looking out into the city lights.

 _"_ _Alice…."_

You sit up, looking around the room for the person who called you. Your hand immediately jumps to your bracelet, ready to take it off at any sign of danger.

 _"_ _Alice."_

Your gaze land on the vanity mirror. Narrowing your eyes, you slowly get up from your bed. You know the voice is familiar. Walking towards the vanity, you find your own reflection staring back at you with stringent disapproval. You blink. This isn't you.

 _"_ _Alice."_ Your reflection speaks, prompting you to jump back.

"Lyss?" You rub your eyes and examine the mirror again. The image persists, and only now do you notice the peculiar color of her gold irises and silver hair. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"No." She replies.

You glance around the room, finding the appearance of an autonomously moving reflection deeply unsettling. "What are you doing in the mirror? You know this only backs up Dean's theory of me being crazy, right?"

 _"_ _I am not really within the mirror. I am inside you. I am apart of you, always. In dire situations, I can alter your senses so I may communicate with you even when you're conscious."_

You pull back a bit, angling your head. "And why would this constitute a dire situation?"

Her gaze darkens, watching you with what you feel to be accusation. _"What are you doing with Castiel?"_

You glare at her, feeling a touch embarrassed but unashamed. "Why does it matter?"

Lyss closes her eyes, the demeanor is all at once melancholic. _"He is an angel, Alice, and you are a Wikkōn. Despite the circumstances, he will always have obligation to Heaven, and you- we… are obligated to Earth."_

You clench your fists. "You're right. You're a part of me, Lyss. Which means, you must feel the same emotions as I do. You know how I feel about him."

 _"_ _Which is why I am warning you now. Stop yourself now while you still can."_

"I don't get it. I'm doing everything I can stop Lucifer. Why can't I have this and fulfill my obligations at the same the time?"

Her eyes grow wistful. _"Being a protector means you must always put the wellbeing of the world above anything else, and harboring feelings for another singular being would jeopardize that fealty."_ She pauses, allowing the words to seep into your awareness. Her lips press into a dismal line when she sees you need further elaboration. _"There might come a time when the interests of Castiel and the interests of the world are pitted against each other. You cannot split yourself among them, and you'll have to choose one over the other."_ She lifts her left wrist, and you're surprised you're doing the same. She presents the symbol etched below the palm. _"This burden is too great to bear with divided affections, but bear it you must. Which means, you will choose the world every time."_

You stare at the mark on your wrist, feeling belligerently defiant. You don't want to protect your world out of obligation, but out of sincere adoration. You refuse to let Lyss's past shackle you from making your own decisions. So much has changed after all. **_You_** have changed. Although Lyss is a part of you, she is also very different. There must still be a way for you to live free, to make your own choices whilst still protecting all you hold dear. You turn a determined face to the mirror.

"I'm sorry Lyss, but I can't do what you're asking. I don't want to chain myself to this duty only to have myself resent it later. I'll protect our world because I choose to; because I want to. Just as I'll choose to love anything and anyone else. And I **will** succeed. I'll make it work."

Lyss regards you silently, then dips her head in acquiescence. _"For your sake and mine, I hope you're right."_

* * *

 **I had to reupload this chapter when I found one of the key dialogues had a spelling error that pretty much destroyed all ambiance I wanted to create! God, I wanna hide myself from mortification!**


	7. To Hover at the Edge

The car jostles as you continue to stare absentmindedly out the passenger window. You have been watching the rolling flatlands that stretch on miles towards the horizon for quite some time. With an elbow propping over the window sill and your right hand pressing against your cheek, your thoughts trail relentlessly back to the events a few nights ago. You haven't seen Castiel since, and you suppose he's making himself scarce.

Lyss's warning runs on a loop in your mind, and you're still unsure of how you're going to achieve your bold claims. You're starting to wonder if your determination was half derived from naivety, and that you've jumped the gun on your decision. The angel certainly didn't seem too eager on clarifying whatever there is between you with the way he departed.

 _~… Castiel grits his teeth. "I can't…."~_

You draw out a long but silent sigh.

"Who's the guy you're thinking about?"

You blink, startled. Looking over to Dean, you catch the devious amusement on his face. You immediately drop the surprise from your visage, putting on an air of nonchalance instead.

At the change in your expression, Dean only grins deeper. "I knew it. So who was it?"

You retain your nonchalance and casually slide your attention back to the road. "You've got a keen eye, Dean."

The man chuckles.

"It wasn't one guy, though." You say, measuring his expression. "It was two."

"Oh?" Dean pitches a suggestive tone.

The edges of your lips twitch. "Yep. I recently did some browsing on the internet. Have you ever heard of a thing called fanfiction?" At the man's blank expression, you continue. "You'd be surprised at how popular it is. Particularly the number of fans of Supernatural- you know, the book series about your life-, and the amount of stories they've written with their own take on the subject. I didn't know incest between two brothers would be such a prominent genre…" Before you can finish, the car lurches to a halt. Having prepared for his objection, you held out a hand against the dashboard, cushioning the impact.

With a look of utter revulsion, Dean angrily turns to you. "I swear to God, Alice. If you ever mention those books or anything even remotely touching the subject again, I. Will. Shoot. You."

Your face is a picture of innocence. "Really, Dean. Is that necessary? I was only answering your question."

The man scowls, successfully deterred from the earlier topic. Pressing against the gas pedal, he pulls back en route.

You inwardly smile, content to have successfully distracted him. Taking your hand off the dashboard, the silver bracelet slides down your arm. You notice it catching Dean's attention.

"Since when did you start wearing jewelry?"

You trace a finger over the engravings in the metal. "Since two days ago."

There's a spark of memory in his gaze. "You started wearing it the night we stayed at that fancy hotel, right? Does it do anything?"

You smirk. "Why do you think it does anything?"

"Don't really figure you for a jewelry wearing gal." Dean scoffs. "Plus, I'm pretty sure those etchings aren't found on your everyday friendship bracelets."

You interlace your fingers and pull your arms into a stretch. "You're right. This bracelet holds back the _Wikkōn_ power. This way, I won't have to worry about tearing houses apart every time someone pisses me off."

Dean shifts in his seat, passing you a curious glance. "Where did you get it?"

"I found the ingredients to make it in my handy dandy spell book. Got the whole thing done while you were out getting dinner."

"Huh." The remark denotes a hint of skepticism. "Speaking of your _Wikkōn_ powers, it's about time I got some answers."

"Yes?" You ask tentatively.

"Now that you know more about yourself and that other person living in your head and whatnot..."

You raise an eyebrow at the wording, but you're glad he's decided not to pursue the bracelet.

"I'm still really curious at how you got to be so lucky."

You snort. "If I really was lucky, we wouldn't be facing Armageddon right now." At Dean's impatient look, you drop the cheekiness. Creasing your brows, you think back to your past lives, then to the fragmented memories of Lyss. You chew your lip. "I'm actually still unsure. The reason is most likely with Lyss. It been a while now, but I still only see glimpses of her life."

 _~…"Being a protector means you must always put the wellbeing of the world above anything else, and harboring feelings for another singular being would jeopardize that fealty."…~_

You frown.

"Right. And what about the way you fight?" Dean's eager question is a welcomed distraction.

You nod and grin. "Well, originally, I always thought it was instinct, that I was just a natural born fighter. But now that I have my memories back, things make a bit more sense. Given the amount of times I reincarnated, you're bound to pick up a few tricks. Despite me not remembering what I am, I was still drawn to the supernatural in pretty much every one of my former lives. As a means to protect myself, I became acquainted with people who were willing to teach me. With each new life, I steadily got better."

Dean nods slowly, mulling over your explanation. "And you've been doing this song and dance how many times now?"

You smile. "Hard to count, but I would say nearly a hundred?"

"And no one ever taught you how to use a gun?"

Irritation pricks you. "Guns aren't exactly the most useful when it comes to hunting the supernatural. Watching you and Sam clearly proved that."

There's a passing flicker of tension in Dean at the mention of his brother, but is quickly passed over by his bristling demeanor. "Then you haven't been watching closely enough. I can name more than a dozen times where carrying one saved my ass. A hunter needs to know their way around a firearm, a good one anyways."

You narrow your eyes at his provocative smirk. "Are you insinuating I'm a bad hunter because I prefer not to use guns?"

Dean's chin is upturned. "Hey, your words, not mine."

You purse your lips at the show of conceit. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, but when we fought against those demons a while back, if it wasn't for me, I'm pretty sure it would've been you lying on that stone slab in chunks."

You strike a chord with that statement. Annoyance gleams in his eyes, but he continues to smile. "Oh, it's on." Dean mutters under his breath. Veering to you, he pins you with a heated glare. "You think you can out hunt me?"

You meet his provocation head on. "Dean, I have thousands of years of hunting experience. You don't want to do this."

Dean leans back, his ego unyielding. "Alright then, little Miss Immortal. Why don't you put money where your mouth is, and we make this interesting."

Your eyes flash at the deriding title. "What do you have in mind, your holiness?"

Dean gives a strained chuckle, his fingers tightening over the steering wheel. "Next job, first person to take down whatever vampire, werewolf, or creeper in the night wins. If there's more than one, then it's whoever ganks the most."

You grin approvingly. "Straight forward and simple."

"And when I win." Dean casts a warning glance to you sidled with a victorious beam. "You are never going to mention or look at anything relating to the Supernatural books again."

You muse at the proposition. It's hardly a worthwhile prize, but this wager is really a means to assert one's pride over the other. And you're not about to endure his arrogant proclamations even if you're thousands of years older than him. Furthermore, this could be a rare opportunity to finally address certain issues.

"I accept."

Dean relaxes back into his seat. You cut his look of content short.

"However, if I win, you have to call Sam and check up on him."

Dean blinks, the request catching him off guard. He frowns.

It's been weeks since the two brothers conversed, and while you've been contacting Sam every now and again to see how he was doing, you believe it is about time for the two of them to reconcile. Sam is still dark with remorse, and until Dean verbally forgives him, you don't think Sam is going to have a good night's rest.

"Do we have a deal?" You extend a waiting hand to the hunter.

Dean stares at the gesture, his jaw tightening. Reaching over, he roughly grasps your hand. With a firm shake, the two of you seal the bet.

…

It's around noon when you arrive in a small town in West Virginia. Feeling hunger pangs, Dean soon pulls the car to a diner on one of the busier streets. While you get out of the Impala to stretch your legs, your companion surveys the menu posted on the window next to the entrance. An old couple exits the establishment and notices Dean. They're friendly enough to greet the two of you, and when they insist that this diner is best in town and famous for their beef burgers and rhubarb pie, Dean's face lights up like a tree on Christmas Eve.

Once the waitress guides the two of you to a booth, Dean doesn't even bother with the menus and immediately gives his order. Not willing to make the waitress wait, you settle for a light salad. Your appetite has been diminishing as of late, and nothing seems to appeal to your tastes. You wonder if it's due to stress. When the meals arrive, Dean rubs his hands together in anticipation.

"Enjoy." The woman says as she places the plate in front of him.

Dean immediately picks the burger off the plate. "Oh, I intend to." He sends the lady a quick grin before taking a large mouthful.

You thank the waitress for the salad. Once she leaves, you turn back to the man scarfing down the burger across from you. Your appetite drops a fraction more.

"You know we're not on any schedule right? You don't have to eat so fast."

Dean's eyes roll back into his head. "Hosh ish sho hwood!" He quickly chews his mouthful and swallows. "Damn, that's a good burger." Noticing your hesitating stare, he shrugs. "Habit." The man then eyes the lackluster salad sitting in front of you. "You sure you don't want to order the burger instead? You're missing out."

Dean's words hardly register as you're currently more attuned to the hustle of bodies chattering around the diner, more specifically, the two women sitting in the booth behind you. They arrived shortly after you gave your orders, and one of them seemed particularly distressed. Your thumb and index trail the stem of your fork as you try to hone in on their conversation. Normally, the discussions of strangers don't interest you, but the ashen look on the woman's face as she passed you peaked your interest.

"Hey, you with me?" Dean waves a hand in front of you.

You hold up two fingers to silence him. Tilting your head just a fraction, you signal for him to focus on the pair behind you. The precarious senses of a hunter take hold in an instant. While he continues to look the part of an average customer, a keen observer might notice the glimmering flash in the man's eyes or the slight edge of tension riding his form. You admit his countenance proves all the markings of an experienced hunter. Adopting a similar posture of feigned leisure, you converge all your attention to the troubled woman's ramble.

"It's been three days already, and he still hasn't contacted me. I don't know what to do. And the police have no idea where to look. Oh my God, Cheryl! What if he's dead?"

"Calm down. It's only been three days. He could still turn up. And like you said, he just walked out of the house right? It's not like he was forcibly taken. Maybe he just needs some time alone because of some stuff. You know how he gets sometimes."

"But never like this! No matter how depressed he got, he never just leaves and not contact me! Something is wrong, I know it! Oh God. And then there's just…."

"What's wrong? What else happened?"

There's a brief silence, and you strain your ears.

"Tell me, Ems, I'm here for you."

"…Oh God, I-I don't know. It's just how he was before he left. I've never seen him act that way before, you know? It was like this… dark calm that just took over. He seemed completely different. And the way Mark looked at me." The woman shudders. "I-I thought he wanted to hurt me…"

"Mark? Are you sure?" The incredulous tone in the friend's voice suggests this Mark must have acted drastically out of character. "Look. The county sheriff's already put out an APB for Mark. We'll wait another day or two, and if we still don't hear anything, the whole town is gonna send out a search party."

The woman sighs. "What is happening, Cheryl? Why are so many people disappearing?"

"I don't know. But we'll figure it out. I'll do whatever I can to help."

When the two women leave, you slide your attention back to Dean. "You got all that?"

There's a growing grin on the man's face. "Looks like we just found our case. Get ready to lose, Alice."

Your eyes glint with a look that says: _in your dreams_.

XX

"Hey, look at this."

You tear your eyes away from the last sentence on the missing person's documents you're holding. There have been twelve people missing in just the past month, most claiming similar stories where the missing person acted strangely before walking out on their own. You're now without a doubt that this is one of your cases. You walk over to Dean sitting at a standard table with your laptop. The motel you checked into is the better one of the only two in town. The room has much of the normal amenities expected: two simple beds, a small TV, and a drawer. The walls are covered with fading wallpaper and the floor is rolled with dark worn carpet.

A fleeting emotion takes you as you watch Dean's back. You remember it was usually Sam's job to research on the net, and your mind superimposes Sam's frame over Dean's hunched figure. If Sam were here, the older hunter would then be mulling things out on top of the bed or staring at a web of information they made on one of the walls. You shake your head of the thought and focus on what Dean is trying to show you.

"So what is it?" You say as you press a hand on the table, leaning over him.

Dean twists around in his seat and pulls his elbow across the top of his backrest. "I've been looking through what your friend was able to dig out on the missing profiles. And other than how they all walked off by themselves, there were no similarities in their age, gender, occupation, personalities, or even the people they knew. There's nothing tying them together. Whatever's taking them, it's choosing their victims randomly."

You take a chair next to him and pull the screen towards you. "So you have no idea what kind of monster could be doing this?"

Dean shrugs. "There's usually a pattern. I was thinking maybe a witch, but none of these people have a shared person that connects them." His head rolls back, and he rubs his eyes. "We're gonna have to visit every one of their houses." He huffs out an aggravated sigh, an opinion you concur with.

Normally, if it were only one or two houses, you wouldn't mind exploring. But when you have to don your FBI disguises to more than ten houses, not only is the constant acting extremely tiring, but you run the chances of revealing yourselves. Last thing any of you want is a dispute with the local authorities, a toiling situation that Sam and Dean experienced multiple times and recounted to you.

You squint, something in the list of records catches your scrutiny. "Hey, what about this?"

Dean looks over to you with tired eyes. "What?"

"Marc Patel has a medical record of clinical depression. He must be the brother they were talking about."

Dean sighs. "Yeah, we know that already. But none of the others have it."

You continue to read. "John Medina, age 19, juvie record for repeated vandalism and shop lifting. April Payne, age 34, goes to a support group for Alcoholics Anonymous. Judy Mills, age 48, also has a juvie record. Nick Dixon, age 26, gambling addict." You continue to pick out the list of petty crime and minor mishaps mentioned in every one of the victim profiles.

"What are you trying to say?"

You cock your head trying to make sense of your findings. "This may not be much, but it feels like every one of them has something bad that they're dealing with. Maybe that's what links them."

Dean shoots you doubtful look. "C'mon Alice, you're grasping at straws here. Look hard enough, and you'll be able to find some sort of bad in everyone. That's not a link."

You exhale and lean back, shutting the lid on your laptop. "Well, that's all we've got. Might as well mark it down."

Dean sighs again, but he then bolts up, excitement lighting his face. "So what are we waiting for, time to break out the suits."

You raise an eyebrow. "What are you all excited about? Thought you hated house visits."

He grins. "I do. But I'm hungry. So while we're out, I want another burger."

XXX

You watch the husband and wife console each other in the living room from your peripherals as Dean is looking around the dining room window. When he taps the sill, it draws your attention.

"Yep. Same black smudge."

You cross the space to survey the thin dark trail near the edge of the window sill. As Dean pushes the window upwards, a larger blot of black appears on the underside of the frame.

This is the fourth house you've visited and because of Dean's sharp eyes, you were able to discover similar black markings on one of the windows in every victims' home.

"Wanna bet we'll find the same black stain on the rest of the houses?" Dean eases his back against a wall and crosses his arms.

You straighten from your hunched position, squinting at the window. You take a step back and orient yourself. Dean watches you curiously as you spin around in place.

"If you wanna catch your tail, you'll hafta turn faster than that."

You can hear the smirk in his voice without looking at him. Ignoring the man's jeers, your eyes veer back to the window. "The window's facing the west." You state simply.

Dean's gaze flickers to the front yard, watching the position of the shadows. "More or less. And?"

Your forehead puckers as you try to recall the placement of the smudge in the last few houses. "They were all facing west…."

When Dean couldn't quite catch your mumbling, he cocks his ear towards you. "Come again?"

You turn to him with a cognizant glint in your eyes. "Every window or doorway where we found the smudge was facing towards the west."

With narrowed eyes, your companion glances back at the smudge. A brooding shadow clouds his gaze as he verifies your findings through his own memories. "You think it means something?"

You shrug. "Coincidences don't really happen in our line of work."

Dean nods. "Right. Well, we'll do a quick run to the rest of the houses, and I'll call up Bobby to see if he can put a name to this thing we're hunting."

You return his affirmation and look back to the couple in the other room. While Dean takes out his cellphone, you start towards them with a mouthful of well-versed lies.

XX

"We're looking for something called a Sluagh."

You blink as you hear the awkward sound slide from Dean's lips. You half wonder if the man had bit his tongue. "A what?"

"A Sluagh." His mouth folds uncomfortable around the word. "It's celtic lore."

You sink into the edge of your bed and let go of the news clippings onto the bedsheets. You look up at Dean waiting for him to continue as he drops onto his own bed.

"According to Bobby, these things are essentially evil souls that escaped damnation, and they go after people with a similar darkness. They possess them and influence them to do more evil things."

You angle your head to the side as Dean takes a swig from his canteen. "What you're describing sounds like a regular demon."

Dean shakes his head and glances towards the ceiling. "S' what I thought, but Bobby explained that these things never made it to hell to turn into demons. They're just masses of bad souls, and they're not as strong in their possessions. So unless you're already pretty impressionable to negative thoughts, they can't really influence you. …At first anyways. Which is why they gravitate towards people who can't get over the bad shit in their lives."

You nod readily. "I told you those things counted." You pause. "What do you mean 'at first?'"

Dean ignores your first comment. "I'll get to that. So these things usually hang somewhere close to town until they've had their fill of dark souls before moving on to their next buffet."

You sit up in alarm. "They've taken twelve people already. How do we know they haven't already left?"

Dean holds up a hand to stop you. "The more people they feed on, the stronger they get, and soon they start to have an effect on the entire area. The Sluagh haven't been heard of for a long time, but when they were recorded, they're said to have wiped out whole towns."

You force yourself to relax, kneading your fingers to cope with the strain. "So how do we kill it?"

There's an uncertain look on the hunter's face. "Apparently, all we need is some holly. We burn the holly around it, and poof. Ganked."

You raise a brow. "Right. How are we supposed to trap it in a circle of burning holly? I doubt it's just gonna wait around for us to set it up."

A sly glint flashes in Dean's eye. "Well, when the time comes, I'm sure the _superior_ hunter will figure it out."

You press your mouth into a hard line, the edges barely lifting upwards. You'll be damned if you let the man get the better of you.

XX

It's late in the evening. You and Dean are currently sitting in the car across the street from a bungalow house with a white picket fence.

It had taken nearly an entire morning to figure out how you were going to single out the Sluagh's next victims. Without any sort of lead, Dean decided to visit city hall to find a record of the town's inhabitants. Luckily, the town only had a population of slightly over three thousand. You then emailed the record to your friend who tapered the list down to the most likely candidates. You were able to discover a few more cases of mild mental illnesses, domestic situations, and substance abuse. Acting on a hunch, you took off your bracelet and raked the town, trying to observe each of the potential victims. Taping into your _Wikkōn_ senses, you noticed the energy signature of each person. While you picked out the individuals with the darkest flecks in their aura, Dean was making a shopping run with your credit card. With the number of suspects given by you, he went to the local electronic store and bought a box load of security cameras. Dressing up as an electrician, he went around town setting up the cameras near the houses of people most likely to be the Sluagh's next meal. By the time all the preparations were finished, it was well into the night.

"Okay. Would you rather give up booze for a year or give up sex for a month?" Dean asks as he tosses another french fry into his mouth.

You inhale tiredly through your nose and continue to watch the uneventful security recordings on your laptop. "Sex for a month."

Dean jerks towards you with a surprised expression. "Really?"

You shrug. "It's hardly any different from what I've got going on now." You feel a pang of irritation as you feel the man's incredulous stare.

"Christ. When was the last time you got any?"

You sigh, thinking back to all the things that have happened since meeting the Winchesters. "Before all of this. Before meeting you and Sam. So, three months? Give or take."

"Three months!" Dean shakes his head. The man pauses, making a face. He turns to you with a studying look.

"What?" You ask, your eyes never leaving the screen.

"You got a boyfriend back home waiting for you or something?"

You're startled by the question and tear your gaze away from the laptop from the first time. "No, I've never been able to connect with anyone on that level. It's near impossible to keep a working relationship with our profession."

Dean's eyes drop to the screen, his nose crinkling a bit. "That's true, I guess."

You scrutinize the man, finding more to the expression he's projecting. "Do you?"

Dean's eyes glaze over with thought. "It's complicated."

You angle yourself towards the hunter, your mind peaking with interest. This is the first you've ever heard of a love interest for Dean, seeing the way he moved from girl to girl through all your travels. You know Sam had a late girlfriend he treasured, but you never took Dean as a settling down kind of guy. "Do you miss her? Do you call or visit her? What's her name?"

He makes an impatient noise in his throat. "Why do you wanna know?"

You almost throw your hands up. "Come on! I'm curious. You've been prodding me with questions all day. It's about time I get my turn."

His mouth twists, oscillating from his reluctance to talk about the subject to wanting to project an air of indifference. Finally, he blows an air of surrender. "Her name is Lisa. And yeah, I miss her. I've visited her once. But that was because of a case. Haven't seen or talked to her since."

You ease your head against the back rest. "So you think, maybe when all this is over, you're gonna go back and start a life with her?"

Dean frowns, a weariness settling into his form. "I don't know. She has a kid she's gotta take care of, and I'm a hunter. Even if we win this, with what I do, I'll only put her in danger. Besides, her priority will always be to keep her son safe, and I don't wanna jeopardize that. The kid's too great for me to mess him up. I figure it's just better if I stay away in the end."

Your excitement drains away, and your voice dies in your throat. Dean's situation draws a staggering parallel to your own. His reasons for staying his distance are sound, and the more logical part of you insists that you should follow in his footsteps. Yet, despite all rationale, you don't want to give up. You hear Lyss's warning in your ears again, and you shake your head, swallowing hard. "But what if there was a way to keep them safe? Would you pursue her then?"

Dean gives you a strange look, finding the ardor in your voice odd. "How would that be possible?"

You fidget with the hem of your jacket, your fingers clenching around the folded fabric. "Hypothetically, I mean. If it was possible."

He forces a smile. "Yeah, hypothetically. If clouds were made of cotton candy and there were pots of gold at the end of rainbows, of course I'd go back to her. But what's the point on wasting time on 'could be's and 'what if's when you know it's just a fantasy?"

You grit your teeth. Though Dean is unaware of your own troubles, hearing him denounce the possibility is a harrowing blow to your confidence. You tear your gaze away and look down. Are you being delusional after all? You can feel the obstinacy rising within you.

"I…" But your retort is cut short when a chill runs down your spine.

Gripping onto your bracelet, your head veers towards the house. You catch the glare of your eyes sparking gold in the rearview mirror.

Dean starts from your sudden movements. "What is it?" He glances from the house to the laptop screen.

To the west, you see a growing unrest among the wildlife. Looming just beyond the turn of the road, birds and rodents scuttle from their hiding places. Their fear adds to the mounting unease in the atmosphere. You narrow your eyes. A dark haze floats closer, and you inch towards the back window. At first, you catch a flick of something black. Then, all at once, dark wisps of smoke slither into view. They twist and slice through the air, causing the surrounding plant life to quiver with discomfort.

"What is it? What do you see?" Dean repeats anxiously.

Your shoulders tense. "It's here. It's coming."

Dean turns his head back and forth, searching for the black tendrils you're staring at. You remain silently alert, your eyes never leaving their target. It's now obvious to you that Dean can't see whatever it is that you do, which doesn't bode well for the hunter.

The black miasma ebb over the picket fence towards the house. Your lips twitch with grim satisfaction. The wispy black crawl around the house, searching for an opening. Coiling towards the west side, it finds what it's looking for.

"It's in the house." You tell Dean.

The man nods, his hands tightening over the wheel.

Only a few moments later, the front door swings open and out walks a man in his early 40s. He wears a simple white shirt and jeans, topped with an open vest. His expression is ominous as he struts down the porch stairs. You recall the information in his file.

The man's name is Carl Peyton. He was a victim of domestic abuse when he was a child. After going through various foster homes and later halfway houses, he developed a penchant for a laundry list of unsavory habits. Though there were moments where he seemed sincere in his struggle to better his life, he lacked the environmental support, and would always spiral back to his old malefactions.

Your jaw clamps when you see the dark miasma curl around his body like a cobra. With each step he takes, his life energy muddies. You and Dean freeze when the man stops at his gate. He pauses, and you wonder if the man can see you. The moment passes, and Carl makes his way to the grey truck parked on the road.

You and Dean breathe again.

The door to the truck slams, and vehicle's metal frame shudders when the engine roars to life. The two of you duck when his truck passes the Impala. Once the man is a good few yards away, Dean starts the car and pulls onto the road after him. The Impala maintains a good fifty yards behind as you continue following the grey vehicle. Given these are the only two cars running in this town, you half expect that the truck to stop at any moment, and you'll have to confront the man before you can find the Sluagh's hideout. But as time ticks on, the chances of that happening dwindles, and you start to relax. Soon, the road takes you away from town all together, and all you see are dark stretches of rolling hills.

"Dean." You say, breaking the silence. "How are you planning on fighting that thing if you can't see it?"

A brief moment of silence elapses before he speaks.

"Not sure, but I'll figure it out. For now, as long as it needs to control a body, I'll have a target."

"We're heading into unknown territory, and with no previous experience hunting this thing. Bet or not, we should stick together."

Dean nods. No matter how egotistical either of you may be about your fighting capabilities, it's a fool's move to underestimate an unknown enemy.

After nearly thirty minutes of driving, you feel another chill. You throw your gaze further ahead, catching sight of a dark forest. Under the moonlight, your eyes glimpse a whirling cloud of charcoal black, floating like a sinister halo over the trees. You sense the forest's plight, the trees and flora wailing soundlessly in distress.

"Their hiding place is right up ahead. In that forest." You say and point towards the dark cloud you know Dean can't see.

"Right."

Dean jerks the steering wheel to the right. The Impala pulls off road until it stops among a growing mixture of shrubbery and wild grass. As he kills the engine, you open the car door and step outside. Your feel the dirt and gravel beneath your soles. You slam the door shut and circle around to the back of the car. Dean steps next to you and unlocks the trunk door. You turn on the flashlight and point it inside, you had grabbed it from the glove compartment for his sake. With the visual clarity the _Wikkōn_ body gives you, it's just another advantage you have over the hunter. The light bounces off the different metallics in the trunk, making you and Dean turn your heads from the glare. You quickly adjust the flashlight's angle and set it in a practical corner. Under the luminosity, the grand assortment of weapons and digging tools shine within their storage. Each object is neatly arranged into its own spot, tied down with buckles and straps. The only thing that doesn't have its own prescribed place is a box with the various purchases Dean made today.

You smile when you see that all the items you wanted have been successfully procured. You reach into the box for the leather rope woven with interlocking chains and tipped with a metal hook. You bring out the shoulder bag tucked in the corner of the trunk and you place your weapon in. Your eyes move onto the jars filled with a mélange of crushed holly and oil. There are six jars in total, and you know Dean must have emptied whatever store he visited of all the Aquifoliaceae plant. You only hope these jars will be enough. Taking three for yourself, you place the rest in Dean's duffle.

Once the hunter finishes counting his magazines, he picks out a few handcuffs pinned to the underside of the trunk's lid. He then pulls out his .45 caliber from its slot and stuffs it into the belt at his back. His eyes pass over the Beretta, hesitating, before he adds the gun to his bag.

You scrutinize his firearms. "You're not thinking of shooting those people, are you? They're just possessed."

Dean slams the trunk down. "I'll only use 'em as a last resort. And don't worry. There are plenty of places on the human body you can aim at without killing them, and I'm an excellent shot." There's a prideful grin on his face.

You roll your eyes, then focus your attention towards the forest. "If this is where the Sluagh have been taking their victims…"

Dean slings his bag his shoulder. "Then most likely, there'll be some other poor possessed saps running around in there."

The two of you start towards the forest edge. The crunching of gravel under your feet is all you can hear for miles.

"Last I counted, there are twelve disappearances from the town. Those should be all the human obstacles we'd expect… _if_ the Sluagh hasn't kept any leftovers from other towns they've passed." You say.

"And if any of them are still alive. Either way. There should be plenty for each of us."

His reply makes you grin. Frankly, you're glad Dean hasn't lost his chipper mood. Hunting isn't exactly a fun activity for you even with the occasional adrenaline rush. However, with Dean, who seems to invest himself into the hunt with such reckless abandon, you can't help but feel the excitement rub off on you.

Once you arrive at the forest's edge, you see the grey truck abandoned off to the far left of the road. The driver door sits wide open with the keys still in the ignition.

You brush your fingers along the leaves of a fledgling tree, feeling its pain. The branches bristle, arching towards you, aching for your caress. You lift your head in the direction of the malevolent energy, exchanging cautious glances with Dean before stepping into the thickets.

Treading your way through the forest, you are painfully aware of the unnatural silence. Since the arrival of the Sluagh, you suppose any animal or creature that could run have long escaped. The atmosphere emitted by the creature is difficult to bear, brewing within you a sense of nausea and desolation. Your _Wikkōn_ powers instinctively put up a defensive wall, keeping the dark energy from draining you. The only downside to the defense is the way the plant life would reach for you every time you make contact. You know if it was Lyss in control, she would have a way to manage them. However, it is only a matter of time before you acquire her skills.

When you begin to see a clearing up ahead, you hold up a hand to signal Dean. Slowly, you inch forward until you're able to make out what stands in the open glade. There are still quite a few yards between your position to the danger that lies ahead. You've taken particular attention to keeping a safe distance. You motion for Dean to hide, and he promptly slides behind a tree trunk with thick bush bristles fanning its base. You narrow your eyes, pressing yourself closer to your own tree trunk and ignoring its charged thrill at your touch.

Up ahead, you catch sight of a giant swarming orb of black smoke. Surrounding it are numerous individuals who you suspect are the missing townsmen. They all face towards the swarm, standing eerily still. It takes you another second before you realize each person has their heads tilted upwards, mouths open.

Tendrils from the swarm flex and protrude outwards. The black ribbons swerve down towards the victims and reach into their mouths. Your eyes widen when you see grey threads of energy drawn out, flowing from their mouths and towards the giant dark mass.

"Why are they all standing around like that?" Dean whispers.

"It's feeding on them, drawing out their life energy." Your fingers dig into the bark.

"There's something in the center, isn't there?"

You turn a surprised glance to the hunter. "You can see it?"

Dean squints his eyes. "Not sure. It just looks hazy. Like a dark fog. And it feels weird, uncomfortable."

You switch back to the clearing. Dean's senses are sharper than you thought. You suppose it's much harder to go undetected when the Sluagh horde together in such massive quantities. Perhaps this is the reason why it hides in remote locations rather than in the actual towns.

"I think I count twelve. It's dark, so I'm not sure. You ready?"

You nod, sliding the rope from your shoulder to your hand. The both of you step out from your hiding places. Walking brazenly through the trees, it isn't long before you catch the attention of the swarm.

The black mass writhes, and you hear an earsplitting screech. Dean cringes beside you.

As if rehearsed, every possessed person turns their heads in your direction, their faces let out a menacing hiss. Their bodies move as one, and they pivot, charging headlong towards you. Their eyes are unfocused. Each individual runs with rampant speed, their arms swinging wildly. The Sluagh puppeteering these people hold no regards for their physical limitations. Most likely, these possessed bodies are being moved past the brink of what is humanely capable. If you don't get rid of it soon, even if these people are saved, they will likely be facing the rest of their lives as cripples.

You jump back to a more accessible spot. The adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your muscles flex in preparation. You glance at Dean, preparing to run.

"Remember, whoever exorcizes the most people wins!" You shout out.

"And the first person who can gank that fog gets additional points! That thing's worth at least five people!"

"Deal!" The moment the words leave your mouth, you and Dean break off running in opposite directions. You jerk your head towards him. So much for sticking together. You're about to call out after him, but a crowd of the Sluagh puppets are quickly gaining on you. You bite your tongue and double your speed, telling yourself the hunter will be fine.

You continue to fly through the forest, careful with your footing. You're more than fast enough to out run them, and with the terrain, it'll be easy to lose and separate your attackers. Through the pursuit, you keep a sharp eye on your stalkers. You make sure to run in a straight line, worried that if you make any complicated turns, you may lose them all together. Then, you won't be able to predict where they'll be.

When you're certain the crowd can no longer see you, you leap into the trees. You make for the higher branches to fully hide yourself within the leaves. You fumble around the branches until you're finally satisfied with the coverage and the view of the ground.

A few yards away, the sound of running footsteps come closer. You soften your breathing and wait for the four to five possessed bodies to catch up. When you see them, the attackers have slowed down to hesitant shuffles. Having lost your trail, they roam in circles near the base of your tree.

You slowly raise your right hand, rolling a pebble into your fingers. Before your climb, you had picked up a few rocks on your run. They sit in a bundle in your left fist, and you send the first pebble through the air.

The moment the rock makes a sound, the puppets jerk upright, like bloodhounds picking up a scent.

You don't wait for them amass for the same trajectory and start whipping pebbles in different directions.

True to expectations, each sound baits the possessed person closest to them. The group breaks apart, each moving towards the disturbance they think is you. You continue to shoot more pebbles until you're satisfied you've spread them far enough from one another.

You land softly on the dirt ground. Looking around, you decide which person you want to go after first. Listening to prudence, you choose to make after the weakest one. Your footsteps are near silent as you race after your first prey. It isn't long before you find her. A woman in her late 30s in an ankle length dress. You remember in her file that she had become heavily religious after time in juvie as an adolescent. The greenish brown dress snags on bushes and branches as she walks, limiting her movements.

With a quick motion, you whip your arm forward, the momentum brings the leather rope searing through the air. The rope catches the woman's legs, twirling around it several times before the hook latches onto a chain link. Yanking the rope from behind, the woman falls flat. Before she can claw at the binds, you're already twisting the rope over a sturdy branch. When you jerk the rope once more, the woman is pulled from her feet and dangles just inches above the ground. Her body swings back and forth, her lips pull back into a growl. Her fingers mimic talons as they thrash at you. You stare down at her pitiful form and shake your head. The Sluagh is reducing them to no more than animals.

Not willing to waste another second, you tie your end of the rope to another branch and secure the trap. You then dig out a jar from your bag and unscrew the cap. Pouring the substance out in a circle around the woman, you're careful not to waste your supply. After putting the jar back, you take out a match box and knock it against your palm until a matchstick falls out. You scrape the powdered bulb of the stick against the side of the box, and a small flame erupts from the rounded tip. Before the fire can devour the remainder of the wood, you toss it onto the holly oil. The ring ignites. No sooner have the flames completed the circle, the woman screams. Her body convulses, and she begins to gag. Black smog oozes from her mouth. When it dissipates, the woman faints, and the fire dies. Your eyes examine her aura, having returned more or less to the normal human color tones. Untying the leather rope, you release her before climbing back into the trees.

Within seconds, more of the Sluagh's puppets approach, drawn in from the woman's scream. It's two men this time. As they near the unconscious woman, they loom over her to inspect her body. You ready your body. The men are distracted. Taking the opportunity, you leap down and whip out the rope chain again. Your bind wraps around their arms and torsos in swift coils, pulling them together. They try to untangle themselves, but your strength is ample enough in keeping their restraints secure. You spring upwards, winding the rope over the same branch, then another, in case the doubled weight is too much. You pull with all your might and manage to heave the men roughly two inches off the ground. Not a great feat, but it would suffice for what you plan to do.

After fastening the rope to the growth in the bark, you grab the unconscious woman by her arms and pull her away from under the two men. The woman's back and legs rake against the ground, bundling leaves and twigs. The captives growl viciously as you work around them. Irritated by the noise, you take out a small blade from your bag and rip off a few inches of the woman's dress. You mutter a silent apology for destroying her clothes, but you make sure to leave more than enough for her decency. A part of you thinks the rip might be an improvement. The pattern on outdated dress is horrid.

With a strong grip on both ends, you tear the fabric in two. The material makes a swift zipping sound as the seams are yanked apart. You strut up to the men, balling the fabric together and proceed to stuff their mouths. You hope to at least muffle their cries when you start burning the holly. You reach for the jars of oil, hastily spilling the contents in a sloppy circle. As their angry grunts grate your nerves, you wonder if you've wasted too much time, and if Dean has already caught more enemies than you. You slash the match stick against its box, promptly throwing it to the circle. To your relief, the balls of cloth did significantly reduce their screams. Their muffled cries are barely discernable as the dark energy is wrenched from them.

Once you release the two now unconscious men, you pat them down for any cellphones. You exhale when you find one in the younger man's pockets. It still has plenty of battery life. They'll be able to call for help when they wake. Straightening, you gather your rope chain from the branches. Once you've wound the length back into a loop, you walk off after the rest of the Sluagh's puppets.

You continue your methods of distraction, bait and attack until you can no longer track any enemies in your vicinity.

You crouch down next to the young man and woman. Their bodies and clothes are slightly more beaten due to the punches you've given them. These two had been agile given their youth and stature, making them more difficult to handle. You suspect their wild thrashing and abnormal strength would have caused more than a few tears in their muscles. Your teeth clench at their tattered forms. These people are innocent, and because of the Sluagh, they'll be suffering not only from psychological damages but of physical ones too. Your brows pinch, and you wish you had brought your spell book with you. Then you could have performed minor healing spells that might alleviate some of the injuries they sustained.

Sighing with regret, you decide to search their bodies for a cellphone. When you can't find one, you rummage through your bag and take out a burner cell, tucking it into the woman's jacket. You stand back up, slightly hesitant with leaving the unconscious boy and girl. But you know you must. You force your attention elsewhere and scan the surroundings for signs of your friend. When you can't find anything, you decide to make your way back to the clearing where the feeling of dread is the strongest. Perhaps you'll be able track Dean on the way.

You think you walked for about ten minutes before you hear the sound of a gunshot to your 10 o'clock. You take off sprinting in the direction of its echo. The trees and bushes blur past you, and you're careful with your steps. The forest floor is filled with cavities and roots that can send you flying face first into the ground.

Another shot rings out, and you know you're close.

"Dean!" You call out.

Up ahead, you think you see two figures, one standing more awkwardly than the other. You slow down when you're only a few feet away.

The hunter stands furthest from you, currently locked in a stalemate with his opponent. The man he's facing is closest to you, but his back is turned. All you can see is the man's dirty blond hair, his beige woolen jacket and dark pants. His stance is weary, and your eyes trail to the gash at his calf. Even in the dark, you can make out the exit wound from Dean's bullet. The dark fabric from the pant leg glistens with the shine of blood.

Another few meters away lies a man with his hands cuffed to a branch. His foot seems to be placed in an odd angle, and you suppose his injury is from the first shot you heard. Despite the one leg trembling with pain, the man has devoted his focus to yanking his bound wrists against the branch, repeatedly. His expression seems to hold no sense of suffering even as the metal braces scrape against his skin. Blood leaks from the lacerations, drawing red lines down his forearms and staining the blue sleeves of his button shirt. You can't help but think the ones who went after you were much more fortunate. They didn't have to wake up to bleeding bullet wounds and broken limbs.

Dean looks up and gives you a haggard grin. You take a step forward, but the hunter holds up a hand.

"Oh no, you don't. They're mine."

You cross your arms and shoot him a look, but otherwise remain where you are. You watch as Dean saunters towards the injured man with another handcuff in his fist.

The man lurches towards the hunter, which Dean easily sidesteps. Lifting a leg back, Dean delivers a swift kick to the man's good leg, knocking him off balance. As the possessed man tries to take another swing at Dean, the hunter grabs the oncoming hand and cuffs the wrist. Pulling it downwards, Dean twists the man over on his chest and attaches the other cuff to his injured leg. The man is rendered immobile and flops around haplessly.

You have to admit, Dean works quickly and efficiently. But when he glances over to you with a cocky smirk, you withhold your earlier expression of approval.

A final cry echoes through the forest when the last man is exorcized, and you turn your attention to the thickets for any signs of approaching danger. The trees and bushes retain their stark silence, with only a slight breeze offering a faint rustle. When you sense nothing, you turn your eyes back on Dean. The hunter is surveying the dark woods with equal scrutiny. He leans back with relaxed shoulders when he deems it's safe enough.

"So what's your score?" Dean asks, breaking the silence.

You watch his expression, a mixture of hesitation and self-assurance. You inwardly smile. Whatever his number may be, you know you've already won this round. "What's yours?" You ask instead.

Dean scoffs, but replies anyway. "Five."

Your smile widens. "Seven." With this, you're relieved to know all the possessed humans have been taken care of.

Dean's eyes grow wide with surprise. He turns away with a curse under his breath. "You didn't use your witchy powers, did you? 'Cause that's cheating."

You uncross your arms and place a hand at your hip. "Knew you would say that." Your lips pull into a satisfied grin and show him the bracelet on your wrist. "Can't use my powers with this thing on." You chuckle when you see the sour look on his face. "And would you look at that, I didn't even have to use a gun."

Dean glares at you, but the battle ready look of defiance soon returns to his visage. "Don't count your eggs just yet. We still got that fog we gotta beat."

You snort at his persistence, but after re-evaluating his words, your sense of gravity returns. "We should hurry before it decides to take control of them again."

"Lead the way." He gestures with his hand.

…

You look through the foliage to the sky as you and Dean race towards the clearing. You think it's around two in the morning, which means you've been fighting in the woods for about five hours. The man beside you starts to slow, bringing your focus back. The two of you stop a few feet from the open glade, spying the final opponent from just beyond the shadows.

The clearing remains the same, and at its center is the Sluagh. The momentous dark body hovers meters above ground. Underneath, what was originally grass has now died, shriveled brown and dry from the sheer malevolence of the creature.

"It never moved." Dean squints his eyes. "Can you see anything near it?"

You search the area at Dean's suggestion and find nothing but the swirling charcoal mass. "No."

"Alright then." He grips the jars of holly in his hand. "What're we waiting for? Let's finish this."

You follow his footsteps into the clearing, feeling more tentative. Your instincts prick with tension. Your mind jumps from possibility to possibility of the surprises that might await you. Studying the hunter in front of you, you see a similar rigidity in his shoulders. You're glad the man is equally on edge. Of all his bravado, Dean is still mindful to the unforeseen dangers.

You step out from the cover of the trees, and the moonlight casts its glow over you.

The Sluagh ripples, appearing to seethe at your arrival. It bellows out a rumbling screech.

Dean shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "Got no one left to control now, do ya?"

The black mass wails out its retort.

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

"Dean." You warn as alarm shoots through you. Something is wrong. Something is about to happen.

"You ain't gonna be able to feed on any more people. So let's dance, you stinkin' ball of fog."

Dean either didn't hear your warning or is purposely ignoring you. The man takes out two jars of the holly oil, caps unscrewed.

The Sluagh seems to inflate with rage, recognizing the weapon Dean is holding. With another bellow, the smog lunges out. Thick plumes of black smoke charge forward.

"Bring it on!" Dean roars as he pushes off against his foe.

"Dean, no!" You hold out a hand to stop him but you're a second too late.

As the dark tendrils approach, Dean splashes the oil forward, causing the plumes to shrink back. However, just as the hunter believes he has taken advantage, the other tendrils snake around and attack from behind.

"Dean! Watch out!"

Though the warning is yours, the voice coming from your mouth is not. As you watch the hunter grapple with the smoke, your arm moves to rip off the bracelet without your control. Your attention is caught between the involuntary actions your body, and the failing struggles of your friend. The moment the bracelet is off, you find your awareness take a backseat. A new sensation billows through you, flooding outwards from the release of its restraints. Although you're clearly conscious of what is happening around you, you find your senses caged, as if watching the situation unfold from a closed off window. Your eyes track the hunter. The dark strings close around his limbs and neck, breathing darkness into him all the while pure white energy is sucked from his mouth.

"Dean!" The voice that is not yours echo your cry again.

" _INTITEM!_ "

Surprise shakes you at the incantation spilling from your mouth. A wave of power expels from you, flowing towards the hunter and the Sluagh. Instead of the habitual cut the spell commands, the black tendrils holding Dean is blown apart. The Sluagh recoils, spitting out a shrieking groan. Although, the blast frees your friend, the man is thrown savagely from the attack. He lets out a grunt as his back collides with the ground, skidding a few feet further. Dean's head knocks back, and he no longer moves. Only the slight rises and falls of his chest tell you that he's only unconscious and not dead.

Anger burns through you, anger at the entity who controls your body, anger at Lyss, and anger at yourself for letting her use you like so. You grab hold of the reigns in your mind, inserting yourself back to the forefront of your awareness. You feel Lyss draw back, draw within you, almost eager to grant you control.

You turn back to the agitated black fog.

" _Kheim Difere!_ " You call out.

Another torrent of energy explodes from you, but this time with you riding at its helm, leashing the power with stringent discipline. The jars within your bag and the two Dean previously held rise into the air and zip around the Sluagh. With a turn of your wrist, the glass containers shatter, its contents spilling outwards around the dark mass in a perfect circle. The smoke roars in outrage, squirming and distorting within its containment.

" _Arfervi!_ "

The spell brings out a tremendous spark, shattering cinders in every which way. The circle of holly oil bursts into flame, forming a substantial ring of fire. The Sluagh wails, and the sound is suddenly a chorus of a hundred tormented voices. You grimace from their cries. The black ball of smoke tries to curl upwards, darting around the space in an effort to escape. However, as if walled in by an invisible dome, the fog can no more rise a few meters before it is blocked once again. The black mass contorts, twisting and thrashing. After another wail, a wave of energy gushes from its body and the Sluagh fragment. As the fire grows, you start to see the creature for what it really is. A hundred tortured and lost souls mixed and tangled within one another, screaming out in delirium and pain. You feel your heart clench. You're not sure if it is your own emotions or those of Lyss, but you wish you could save them. You wish you could ease their anguish without erasing their existence. The fire continues to burn them away, incinerating their souls and etching their screams into your mind. You know you can't.

You raise your arm, and the flames rise along with it. Bringing out your hand, you curl your fingers into a fist. The inferno swallows the Slaugh within its enclosure, and the entire body is sent aflame. The burning smoke collapses into itself, howling the entire way until nothing but a cinder remains. Fading away with the smoke, a lingering cry drifts through the wind. Then all is silent.

The fight is over, but you feel desolate, staring at the empty space the Sluagh occupied.

 _You shouldn't fret._

You remain reticent as Lyss's words float through your mind.

 _Souls never really die. Though the self is terminated, their essence will be absorbed back into the world. They will be cleansed, refreshed until they are ready to be born again in new forms._

Despite her words, and the truth that ring from them, your mood isn't much improved. You can still feel the anguish of the Sluagh throbbing through your memories.

A hand presses against your shoulder, and you snap out of your thoughts. You glance up to find Dean standing next to you. You didn't even notice his regaining consciousness or his approach.

"You all right?"

You stare back at him with wide eyes. The man was nearly choked to death by the Sluagh, then blown away twenty yards, and he's asking if **you** are okay?

"Yes, but, are _you_?"

He takes his hand away rubs his throat where the Sluagh had strangled him. He gives an uneasy laugh. "Yeah." Turning to scan the clearing again, he blows a sigh. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

You give a weak smile, still somewhat shaken by the experience.

He steals a glance at you from the corner of his eye. Puffing his chest, he drives his hand into your back with a loud smack. You stumble forward and stare back at Dean in surprise. There's a giant grin plastered on his face.

"You did a good job, but didn't we agree using your powers is cheating?"

You blink, your face morphing into an expression of mild irritation. You straighten your back and cross your arms. "Even if I didn't count the Sluagh, I still win."

Dean snorts, but when he sees the usual glint in your eyes again, he turns away with a softened smile. "Yeah, yeah." He walks over to where he dropped his bag and bends over to pick up the strap. Though he hides it well, you notice the strained movements as he pulls the strap over his shoulders. "I still say you got lucky this time. If it were vampires or werewolves or any of the usual stuff we deal with, I'd have won for sure!"

You decide to humor him and hide your looks of concern. Waving your hand, you pretend to dismiss his complaints. "Anytime, anywhere, Dean."

The hunter mimics your voice under his breath as he digs around his duffle for his burner cell. Flipping open his phone, he presses four buttons before bringing it to his ear.

A woman responds from the other end.

"Yeah, I'd like to request ambulances for twelve people."

XXX

After getting back from the forest, you told Dean you wanted to leave as soon as possible. You could tell the man was tired and wanted to sleep, but he didn't object. In return, you offered to drive until you reach the next destination.

The sky is already brightening, and you have to pull down the sun visor to block the glaring light. The hunter does the same, sending an annoyed glower at the rising sun. He's no doubt miffed that the brightness is making it hard for him to sleep.

You think back to your earlier conversation. You never did give him your answer.

"It's really similar…." You say as you stare down the road.

Dean glances at you from the passenger seat. "What?"

"What you told me about Lisa and you. I think I'm in a similar situation."

Dean blinks, surprised at the sudden revival of the topic. "I thought you said you don't have anyone waiting for you."

You shake your head. "Not a boyfriend. And I don't think he's waiting for me." You sigh, feeling pessimistic from the subject, but still yearning for Dean to offer you some sort of advice. "I thought I could do it, to have some semblance of a normal life and still do my job. Falling in love and having friends. But now I'm not so sure."

Dean silently contemplates your words, and you're glad he's not teasing you. "What do you mean when you say it's similar?"

You chew your lip. "The obligations. I'm constantly reminded that we have different obligations."

Dean watches you carefully. "What are his obligations."

You pause, unsure of how to answer without giving too much away. "His family, I suppose."

The man turns his head, and you think you see a shadow of a smirk, but you're not sure. "And you have your hunter _Wikkōn_ thing, huh."

You nod.

"So what do you plan to do?"

You glance at your friend; to which he returns with an encouraging look. "I'm not sure." And frankly, you're starting to feel rather guilty about the entire affair. "I was hoping you could give me some advice."

Surprise colors his features. Dean seems honored by your show of trust in him. He turns a brooding complexion to the road. "Does the guy know how you feel?"

You think back to the night on the roof. "I'm not sure."

"Why don't you tell him?"

You bristle, your face is almost akin to horror at the man's suggestion. You focus your eyes back to the road when you see Dean isn't joking. "Wouldn't that be selfish? To impose my feelings on him like that? He's got more than enough on his plate as is."

"Hey. No guy is ever offended to hear when a cute girl likes them."

His compliment makes you blush.

"Besides! You deserve to be a little selfish! With you staking your life to save the world and all." His mouth pulls into a sly grin. "And if he dares turn you down. I'll be sure to knock some sense into him."

You let out a laugh, finding your mood lightening. "Thanks, Dean." You breathe out another chuckle when you imagine Dean tossing Cass around in a fit of righteous fury.

"So what's his name?"

The laugh is caught in your throat. You peer over to the hunter, and you don't like the knowing smirk on his face. You fake a serene smile. "Don't think asking me this is going to make me forget about you losing our bet. You still gotta call Sam."

Dean's face immediately turns bitter. "Dammit."

* * *

 **Went back to reread this chapter and can't believe I missed so many obvious mistakes. Spelling errors... you are the bane of my existence! Why can't everything be perfect after the first reread. ~cries pitifully~**

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! Your feedback are the fuel for these stories. =D**


	8. To Stop Ripples in the Water

You wake up with a start. Blinking several times before you adjust to the light. Your eyes catch sight of the sky overhead, thick with clouds and framed with leaves and branches. You frown. Feeling a growing discomfort in your back, you sit up. Looking down, you realize you have been lying on patches of grass on uneven ground. Somehow you've landed outside. Slowly getting up, you take in your surroundings. From where you stand to the ends of your vision are nothing but trees and plant life. You don't remember how you got here.

"Dean!" You call out, searching for your hunter friend.

No reply.

"Dean!" You try again. "Anybody?"

More silence.

You fumble through your pockets for your phone, and curse when you come up empty. You scowl at the ground and rack your brain for some kind of explanation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the last thing you remember is being in the car with Dean. You had just finished dealing with a new type of monster called the Sluagh. Its shrieking cries singe your mind. You grimace and quickly move past the memory. The next thing you recall is you driving for what felt like hours before Dean had to take over. Soon after that, you fell asleep. You think you remember blurry instances of Dean trying to wake you, but your recollections stop here.

Your thoughts trail to Castiel, wondering if you should call for him. It doesn't seem like you're in any immediate danger. And other than the fact that you're lost, you're in sound condition. Your reluctance to face the angel after your last meeting propels you to delay the distress call.

Making up your mind, you start through the thickets. As you brush against the leaves and branches, you notice an odd quality to the plant life. All around you, they seemed to hum with energy, but it isn't the gentle and fertile energy you're familiar with. You examine the passing greenery with interest. They all look healthy enough, and yet, they also feel barren. Perplexed, you raise your head to the sky, and the similar impression of solitude washes over you. Finding your situation increasingly unsettling, you slip off your bracelet and keen your senses to your environment. After moments of futile seeking, you still cannot locate any signs of human life.

"Castiel!" You cry out, unable to stop yourself. You wait, and when the silence endures, you call again. And then again and again until you scream yourself hoarse, each cry mounting another layer of anxiety in your stomach. You know something is wrong; Castiel wouldn't abandon you. You can only assume something has happened to him, or, you're in a place where he can't reach you. You prefer the latter.

You catch your breath. If no one's coming to your rescue, then you might as well keep walking. You should find out as much as you can about this place. You may encounter someone yet. Gathering your spirits, you pick a random direction and march onward.

…

From the angle of the shadows, you suppose you've been walking for a few hours. You're glad you're not distracted by hunger, for you haven't felt it in quite a few days now, and you're only mildly tired. The trees and plants have not changed, save for the ground starting to slope upwards. Just as you're about to pick a new direction for an easier route, you feel a glimmer of something familiar. You turn your head eastward, inspecting the feeling. Unable to discern what it is, you start towards it, quickly breaking into a run. You stop when you arrive at the bottom of an elevation.

The incline is steep, marred with jutting rock, but not unclimbable. However, the strange tree roots distract you, crawling against and through the dirt to the top in spirals. You tip your head back and follow the roots to the summit. At its peak, you can make out a rock formation where the sensation is strongest.

You take a deep breath in preparation. Grabbing onto the bedrock, you start the climb. The elevation is riddled with sturdy footholds and strong roots for you to grab and push against. Within minutes, you reach the top. Straightening yourself, you realize the formation you were staring at is actually a statue of a person. The stone appears smooth, still unworn from weathering. Twines of tiny white Clarkia blossom at the base, stringing upwards in the same spiraling pattern. The stone figure has its back to you and its frame is smaller than you expect. You fixate on the statue with curiosity. The closer you get, the stronger the familiarity becomes. And the power emitted is especially potent. You walk around it, eager to view the front. You freeze when you see its features. Stumbling backwards, the blood in your veins run cold. It's the face you've seen in the mirror a thousand times over, your very own likeness carved into solid rock.

You stare at your stone duplicate, and a part of your mind tries to rationalize what you're seeing. Perhaps this is a mere coincidence, a practical joke of epic proportions? But you know from the energy that it is not. You swallow hard. Somehow, you're certain this statue is you, …or at least an echo of you.

When your pulse starts to calm, you muster a daring step forward, bringing a hand to the statue's face. Your fingers trace down her cheeks, and an odd tingle runs through them. Her eyes are closed, and had it not been for the slight tension between her brows, you would have assumed she felt serene. Instead, you see the show of silent resignation; an expression you've made when left with no choices. The only clear thought hanging in the storm of your mind is _what happened?_

"Eerie, isn't it?"

You jump at the sound. Whirling around, you see Zachariah standing leisurely a few feet behind you. A part of you rears in anger, proclaiming your suspicions of his involvement in your current predicament. You glare at the angel. "What is this? Where am I?"

Zachariah smiles, the same mocking demeanor about his face. "You're just a few miles outside Kansas City, had you walked in the opposite direction. But I suppose it was imperative for you to see this." He gestures to the statue. "And as for your first question, isn't it obvious?" He sneers. "It's you."

Your glare deepens. "I can see that. I want to know why there is a statue of me here. And why does this place feel so… different?"

There's an approving glint in his eyes. "Now you're starting to ask the right questions." He opens his arms in a greeting gesture and bows. "Welcome to the future."

You can feel the blood drain from your face. Swerving around, you examine the surroundings again, ending with your statue. A soft wind blows, reminding you only now of its emptiness. Where are the birds, the animals, the insects? How can the plants flourish when the place is devoid of all other life? Your eyes flicker towards your statue form, nudged by its flowing power. Did it have something to do with this lush but barren land?

"This is the future?" You turn back to Zachariah. The angel had been watching you with a studying interest. "Why did you bring me here? Where's Dean? Where is everyone?"

His mouth twitches with amusement. You find yourself hating that look of his. As if he's laughing at some inside joke while deliberately leaving you in the dark.

"Oh, some of them are here and there. You'll see them soon enough." Zachariah strolls along the ledge, his hands folded behind his back. "And the reason you're here? Think of this as a sort of preview. An unveiling of the grand show if you will. VIP seats."

You bare your teeth. "Stop ridiculing me and tell me what's going on."

"No ridicules, Alice. I brought you here to help you."

You clench your jaw at the pacifying tone.

The angel notices the distrust in your eyes and gives a small snort. "Look, whether you believe me or not, the end of the world is happening. And you have the Winchesters to thank for that. Of course, yours wasn't a meager role either."

His words strike a nerve. "Did you forget you were the one who kidnapped me and stole a gallon of my blood?"

"And had you sealed Lucifer away properly all those centuries ago, none of this would be happening."

The rebuttal dies in your throat. You weren't expecting the direct attack on Lyss's history.

When Zachariah sees your speechless form, the antagonism leaves his face. The smile returns, his tone back to its singsong norm. "But, what's done is done. Let us all move on, so long as you successfully do what you're meant to."

A growl rises in your chest. You're tired of all this destiny crap. "And what kind of sick role is heaven expecting me to play this time?"

"To save the world, of course."

You frown with tentative confusion and wait for him to elaborate.

"That mark on your left wrist, the mark of Earth's mighty guardian."

Your left hand clenches at its mention, but your eyes refuse to leave his face, as if moving them would signify surrendering to his will.

"Well, the world is dying, and when the time comes, you'll have to protect it."

"By turning myself into stone?"

Zachariah rocks his head left to right. "We prefer the words 'to give back to the world'. You will become one with it, suffusing Earth with your energy, replenishing it. It's actually quite poetic."

Your heart sinks, your earlier suspicions loom over you like a dark cloud. You turn around, unable to retort. You don't want him to see your crestfallen expression. If this really is the future, then it means you failed to seal Lucifer back to his cage. And if the world really does start to die, you would have no choice but to give yourself over. Lyss's oath binds you, the contract would never allow Earth's destruction. You suddenly feel oddly empty. "All right then, you've said your piece. Now take me back."

"Not quite. You see, you're not the only one we brought back. Dean has to see the consequences of his actions, and he might need some additional persuasions. So until he does, why don't the two of you explore this new world together? Really soak in the environment."

You blink, your spirits lifting a bit. "Dean's here, too? Where-?" But when you look back, Zachariah is already gone.

XX

You push against the rusting car door and get out of it.

After walking through the forest in the reverse direction as Zachariah had suggested, you were able find the city borders by nighttime. However, gazing upon its destitute state and the miles of fencing winded around the limits, you second guessed your decision to enter the city. Your reluctance was doubled when you spied a giant biohazard sign welded to the fence stating CROATOAN QUARANTINE ZONE in large bolded letters. Whatever this Croatoan was, you weren't willing to risk a venture. After an hour of walking around the perimeter, you found a few empty cars abandoned on one of the highways exiting the city. You had to go through hotwiring numerous broken vehicles until you came across one that survived.

Now that you know Dean is here, it's become your priority to find him. And you suspect if you were him, the first thing he would do is head to Bobby's. So you make it your destination. It takes you about six hours driving to reach Bobby's house. By the time you arrive, you suspect it's early in the afternoon.

Slamming the car door, you scan the untamed exterior of the old hunter's home. You give a dry chuckle when you notice there isn't much of a change from End of the World Bobby's House to Present Day Bobby's House. The wood paneling looks just as worn and grey. The patches of dried grass and broken branches litter the yard. However, you suppose the tree outside his house might have gotten a bit bigger. As you pass the driveway, you barely give the rusting blue Volkswagen a side glance. When you approach the porch stairs you notice the front door is open. Before you can take another step, you hear sounds of rummaging inside. Your heart jumps with hope, and you call out for Dean and Bobby.

The rummaging stops, and for a second, you wonder if your excitement came too early. As the sound of footsteps becomes louder, you ready yourself for a potential enemy. When Dean rounds the corner, your tension immediately melts away.

"Dean!" You cry out in relief.

"Alice?" He asks incredulously. He hurries towards you and you receive him in a bear hug, barely able to contain your exhilaration at seeing a familiar face. "Am I glad to see you!" He pulls back and holds you at arm's length. "Zachariah zapped you here too?"

You nod. "I woke up in a forest outside Kansas City. He told me you were here."

He blinks. "What else did he tell you? And how're you feeling? You've been asleep for three days since Charleston."

Your eyes widen. "Three days?" You put a hand to your head. "I thought I slept for a while, but geez!" You glance down at yourself. "I feel fine though."

Dean relaxes a bit. "Good. So what did he say to you?"

Your brows clinch. "More of what he showed me. Apparently this is the end of the world, and we somehow lost against Lucifer." You leave out the part about your future-self frozen in stone, you're still having a hard time accepting the reality of it. "What about you?"

The man huffs in defeat. "Pretty much the same. We're stuck in 2014 until Chuckles plops us back to our timeline. Which is two days from now supposedly."

You raise an eyebrow. "He gave you a time limit?" So the angels expect to change his mind in just two days? You find the assumption rather cocky.

When the hunter shrugs, you look back through the door. "So where's Bobby? I tried calling for Cass; he never answered."

Dean lowers his gaze. "Bobby's gone, but I might have an idea where Cass is." He holds up an old photograph. Tearing your eyes away from his forlorn expression, you examine the photo. You see Bobby in his wheelchair and Cass standing to his left, both holding rifles. Your peer closely at the strange human ensemble Cass is wearing, no longer donning his business suit and trench coat. There are also three other men in the photo you don't recognize. The sign next to the group says Camp Chitaqua.

Dean tucks the picture into his jacket. "Hopefully, we'll get some answers there."

XX

When Dean pulls the Volkswagen to a stop, it's nighttime. In front of you is a sign with the words CAMP CHITAQUA. Underneath are the words 0.5 MILES and an arrow pointing towards the smaller road forking left.

"We should walk the rest of the way. If the camp's been compromised, the last thing we need is some Croatoan infected zombies waking up to the sound of that rusting engine." He gestures towards the trees surrounding the road. "We go off path. Safer to hide in the trees."

You slide off your seatbelt and get out of the car. "What's Croatoan? I saw the signs outside the city." You start following him into the forest.

There's a flicker of astonishment on Dean's face before it's quickly replaced by realization. "Oh, right. You don't know." As he falls in step with you, he starts his explanation with a hushed voice. "Sam and I visited a town in Oregon a few years back. People who got the Croatoan virus would go blood savage in hours. Some could hide it better than others though, but at the end of the day, they all go psychotic. We're not exactly sure where it started, but we know it's transmitted through blood. We think it's some kind of demon virus."

"And there's no cure?" You ask.

Dean shakes his head. "None that I know of. And from the looks of things, I doubt anyone found one."

It isn't long before you reach the camp, and like every place you've seen today, the area is fenced. Increasingly wary of the setting, you and Dean crouch, stepping lightly along the border. Through the darkness and foliage, you catch sight of two armed men patrolling the edges of the camp. From the way they walked, they don't appear to be blood crazed zombies. But then again, Dean did say not every infected individual looked the part. When you turn away, the hunter is no longer next to you. Instead, he is squeezing himself past a hole in the fence through to the other side.

You gape at his recklessness. But before you can hiss at him, you notice what caught his attention.

Lying in a rusting heap among the bushes is the broken remains of the Chevy Impala. You think you can almost hear Dean's heart break. Eyeing the two patrolmen and any other passerbys, you hurriedly pass the fence after him.

"Oh baby, what did they do to you?" You hear Dean's aghast voice as he trails his hands against the mangled frame.

A figure moves in the corner of your vision and you jerk towards it. Your sight seems to double when you see it's Dean approaching, and with a rather menacing air about him. You glance back at the man doubled over the Impala, still lamenting over his precious car. Switching back and forth between the two Deans, your mind churns into itself trying to make sense of what you're seeing. "Dean?" You whisper out. Instincts tell you danger is approaching, but your mind says the man is a friend.

The crouched hunter glances up at you questioningly just as the double swings down a hard fist against your friend's head. He's instantly knocked out.

"Dean!" You cry as you try to catch his slumping figure. Your right hand moves to your bracelet.

"Don't move."

You freeze when you feel the double barrel pointed to your head. Letting your friend down, you slowly raise both hands to the air. When you turn to face Dean's double, you see the mistrustful glare in his eyes. And then it dawns on you. You mentally berate yourself for forgetting such an important detail. You're in the future, and this man is Future-Dean. You slowly stand back up. "Dean, it's me, Alice. I know this looks really bad, but I swear, if you'll just listen-"

Before you can finish, the butt of the rifle comes charging forward, smashing against your temple.

XX

You wake up to something shaking you. Flinging your eyes open, you see Dean hovering over you. You jolt back, putting your hands up to shield yourself.

"Alice! Calm down, it's me!"

You blink, lowering your defenses a fragment. When you see the sincere worry in his eyes, you realize it's the regular Dean sitting next to you. You sigh, dropping your hands back to your sides. "Your future self is a dick."

"Yeah, tell me about it." He glances up at your temple. "He did want to apologize for that though."

You press a hand to the place where you were hit, feeling cotton and tape.

"He bandaged it up too."

When you feel no tenderness, you pull the bandage off and find dried blood crusted to the underside.

"Wouldn't have to bandage it up if he'd just took a second to listen." You mutter bitterly. "I'm guessing you were able to convince him we're not evil?"

"More or less."

You notice Dean narrowing his eyes at the head wound. "How bad is it?" You ask.

He looks surprised. "Other than the dried blood, I can't even see a bruise." He shoots you a pointed look. "The cut looked pretty nasty last night. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say immortal powers?"

You shrug, not really familiar with the changes your new body may or may not provide. Your eyes catch the sunlight coming from the windows. You must have slept through the night. "So, where is Mr. Dick now?"

"Who?"

"Your future self, who else." You snap, still feeling bitter about the attack.

Dean snorts out a laugh. "He left to go on an errand run. So now's the perfect time to explore the area."

"I'm surprised he just left us here unattended."

"Not exactly." Dean gestures to the hand cuffs that lie by your feet, and another one further by a table. You narrow your eyes at the restraints as you begin to feel the imprint from the cuffs on your wrists. "Of course."

With Dean's help, you get off the floor. Moving towards the door, he opens it and give the outside a cautious once-over. As Dean marches down the steps, you linger on the porch and scan the woodland area. The sky remains a constant grey, dragging with it the same bleak atmosphere. The melancholic visage of your statue float into mind, and you wonder how long you have until you meet the same fate.

"Hey Dean, you got a second?"

Your grim thoughts are broken by the familiar voice. You blink in surprise as you look down to see heaven's prophet and the author of Supernatural treading towards Dean. The man is wearing a dark worn-down flannel shirt and cargo pants with a rather important looking clipboard in his right hand. He doesn't seem to notice you standing at the top of the stairs as he passes them.

Dean swerves, meeting the man with just as much surprise. "No. Yes. Uh, I-I guess." He quickly shakes his head. "Hi Chuck."

If Dean's behavior is strange, it goes unnoticed. "Hi. So, uh, listen." Chuck gestures to his clipboard. "We're pretty good on canned goods for now, but we're down to next to nothing on perishables and hygiene supplies. People are not gonna be happy about this. So what do you think we should do?"

Dean's eyes dart left and right, completely clueless. "I-I don't know. Maybe uh, share? You know, like at a kibbutz."

You bite down on your lip to stop from laughing.

Chuck cocks his head to the side. "Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be out on a mission right now?"

You can almost hear the gears in Dean's head churning for responses.

"Absolutely. And I will be."

Your attention is diverted again at the approach of a new person. This time someone you don't recognize. The woman has long dark hair tied in a high pony tail while dressed in a dark jacket and tank top. Her jeans are faded and track dirt as she advances. Her expression is determined and angry. No doubt the woman is looking for a fight.

"Uh oh." Chuck voices, having also noticed this person.

As Dean turns around to see what Chuck is referring to, the woman throws a right hook. Dean narrowly dodges, only to have her continue her assault by attempting to knee him in the groin. The hunter skips back, stumbling behind the prophet and pushing the shorter man forward to shield himself. "Whoa! Geez! Easy lady!"

"Risa." Chuck greets as he leans back against Dean's push, and the hunter echoes the name.

You watch with mild amusement, wondering if you should intervene.

"You spent the night in Jane's cabin last night, didn't you?" The woman accuses.

On second thought, this is clearly none of your business.

Dean is utterly stumped by her allegations. "Uh, what? I-I don't…" He glances at Chuck. "Did I?"

The prophet gives a quick but vigorous nod.

"I thought we had a _connection_." The woman emphasizes the last word with air quotations.

Dean offers a nervous smile. "Well, I'm sure that we do."

"Yeah?" She then catches sight of you, and you freeze, suddenly feeling culpable. Risa sends a chilling glare back to the hunter. Pointing a finger at you, she snaps, "And who's that? Another girl you just happened to a share a _connection_ with?"

You have to cover your mouth to hide the escaping laughter. Leave it to Dean to bring comedy in the darkest hours.

Dean switches back and forth from you to Risa, completely at a loss of words. "I-I, what? Her- No!"

When the man can't seem to give her a clear response, Risa rolls her eyes and storms away, muttering curses under her breath. After the woman disappears from view, you switch your attention back to the rattled Dean. You tense when you see Chuck staring at you with disbelieving eyes. You give him an awkward smile and descend from the porch.

"Hello again, Chuck."

The prophet opens his mouth and closes it again, unable to form words.

Dean pulls at the lapels of his shirt in irritation. "Geez. I'm getting busted for stuff I haven't even done yet." The man shoots you a critical look. "Why didn't you help me out?"

Your lips pull into an innocent pout, your shoulders lifting in a shrug. "Didn't feel like it was my place. All's fair in love and war, and all that."

Dean only grumbles unintelligibly.

You glance back to Chuck. Though he is still in a trance, he's finally able to speak.

"I thought you were… gone."

The edges of your lips pull into a lopsided grin. "Yeah, it's a long story."

"Never mind that!" Dean cuts in. "We'll tell you all about it another time. Right now, is… Cass still here?"

Chuck shakes his head out of it and looks at Dean with an odd expression. "Yeah." He laughs as if it's the most obvious answer in the world. "I don't think Cass is going anywhere."

…

After following the prophet's directions, you and Dean arrive at one of the larger cabins. The stairs lead up the porch to a doorway draped with beads. While Dean hurries up the stairs, you find yourself lagging behind. You wonder how this future Castiel will react to seeing you. You have no idea what transpired between him and future you. Taking a deep breath, you push yourself forward. When you reach the doorway, you hear his voice. It sounds normal enough…

"… Excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a moment. Why not go get washed up for the orgy."

You freeze at the threshold. Did you hear that right?

There's a shuffling of feet, and among the noise, you hear "…you're all so beautiful…".

It's definitely his voice, albeit with a strange quality to it.

With you staring into the beaded curtain in a dumbfounded manner, four women step out. Coy excitement paint their faces while they make their way down the stairs. Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you push away the beads and step through the room. Your eyes skim the space until you find what you're searching for. Standing with his back turned and stretching out his arms is the rebel angel. His sagging blue shirt and dark pants seem uncharacteristically casual. If you're being blunt, you would say his entire appearance looked unkempt.

You glance to Dean, who holds the same bewildered expression.

"What are you, a hippie?" Dean asks, taking a cautious step forward.

The angel remains unfazed, retaining his air of calm indifference. "I thought you'd gotten over trying to label me." His arms fall back to his side, and he turns around. His grin disappears when he sees you.

* * *

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	9. To Brace for Impact

You brace yourself for the angel's reaction, unsure if it would be positive or negative.

Castiel continues to stand completely frozen. His eyes take on an indiscernible intensity, boring into your own as he's trying to decide if you're real or imaginary.

It takes you a few moments before you realize you've been holding your breath. You quickly release it.

The man is immobile.

Should you say something? You have no idea what's become of your relationship. This is the Castiel five years from your present. Is he even the same Castiel you know? What do you do? What do you say?

After what seems to be eons of uncomfortable silence, your lips draw into an uneasy smile. "Um. Hi, Cass. Long time no see?"

The angel's jaw clenches, his gaze burning more fiercely than ever. When he takes a heavy step forward, you feel a crawling apprehension and inch back.

"How are you here?"

Dean finally seems fed up with the staring contest and steps in. "Look, I can tell the two of you have got some stuff to figure out, but I need your help." When Dean walks up to Castiel, the proximity makes him bristle.

The angel gives the man a hard look, scanning his form. "You're not Dean."

The hunter looks taken aback. "Yes, I am-"

Castiel cuts him off. "Not the Dean from this timeline, I mean." Understanding lights his eyes, and he turns his stern look back to you. "You're not from this timeline either."

You only nod your head, still feeling awkward under his gaze.

"What year?"

"2009." Dean replies in your stead.

Castiel's eyes glaze over with memory, and he turns away. His expression is strained, as if having a migraine. All of a sudden, he starts laughing. The hollow sound of his voice makes you wince. "Let me guess. Zachariah did this to you?"

"Yeah." The hunter is quick to answer, eager to move the conversation along. "So now, why don't you strap on your angel wings and fly us back to our page on the calendar."

Castiel stares at the oblivious hunter before letting out another empty laugh.

Dean turns to you with raised brows, and you parry back a wordless response. It's not like you know what's going on through the angel's mind.

When the laughter dies, you and Dean bring your wary attention back to the unkempt man.

"I wish I could just strap on my wings. But I'm sorry, no dice."

Dean gives the man a studying look, his forehead furrowing. "What are you, stoned?"

Castiel's lips pull into a rueful smirk. "Generally, yeah."

You stare headlong at the angel. The man in front of you is a complete contrast to the Castiel you know.

"What happened to you?" Dean asks the question that's burning through the both of you.

Castiel's eyes flicker to you, and you can't seem to discern the emotion behind them. Is it anger? Blame? Resentment?

"Life." He says.

You don't know how to respond, feeling like a deer trapped in the headlights. Should you ask him to elaborate, or would that be adding oil to an already rigorous fire?

Dean suddenly walks out of the room, distracted by noises outside that you barely registered. Castiel's attention is momentarily diverted, and when his gaze leaves you, it's as though a weight is lifted. Unwilling to remain alone and in the same room with the jaded angel, you scuttle after Dean.

Once outside, you see multiple vehicles parked near the fenced entrance. Men are unloading bags and weaponry from the trunks. When your eyes land on Dean, you find him running towards the men almost in a panic. You push your gaze further ahead and see the reason for his alarm. By the furthest car is Future-Dean, raising a gun to the back of another man.

Dean shouts out a warning, but it comes too late.

The trigger is pulled, and a hole is blown through the front of his head, splattering crimson and flesh in a wide radius.

Dean halts, lurching back from the blood landing on him. You catch the wild expressions from the other men, and you run after your friend. You have a gut feeling it isn't the shooting that upset the men. When you arrive next to Dean, his future double is looking absolutely furious. Sending the most scathing glower to the two of you, Future-Dean directs the others.

"I'm not gonna lie. Me and him—pretty messed up situation we got going. But believe me, when you need to know something, you will know it. But until then, we all have work to do."

You see the wary doubts in the men's eyes, but to your surprise, everyone obeys. Each of them turns back to grab their bags and disappears without another word.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. You were expecting an all-out standoff. However cold and uncouth Future-Dean may be, he has remarkable control of his men. They trust him as their leader that much. Perhaps, Future-Dean and the Dean you know isn't all that far apart after all.

Once the last man leaves, their leader beelines for the hunter beside you. He grabs Dean roughly by the shoulder and pushes him back. You're about to step in, but a hand holds you back. You turn to see Castiel restraining your arm. His grip is firm as he sends you a warning look that says not to interfere. With another grunting protest from Dean, his future double continues to herd him back to the main cabin.

Turning sideways, Future-Dean barks out an order over his shoulder. "Make sure she stays out of trouble." You suppose the command is meant for Cass, and you feel a rising irritation. You stare at the man's back as the two look-alikes disappear into the cottage. Just what in the world did you do in this future that would merit such contempt from him? You take back your earlier theory. The two Deans couldn't be farther apart.

When you and Castiel are left alone, he releases the hold on your arm. You grab onto your bracelet, making sure it would prevent you from unleashing a telekinetic storm. You throw your hands up and let out an exasperated puff of air. "What the hell happened to him? How did he get like that?"

From behind you, Castiel sighs. "The end of the world will do that to you." When you return with an unsatisfied look, the angel clarifies. "But if I had to pick a moment, it'd be the day he lost Sam."

You recoil, any resentment you felt dispelled in an instant. "Sam's gone?" It would certainly explain the change in Dean's personality. You wonder if Present-Dean knows. Your mind whirls in confusion. "What happened? Was I there? Was Dean there? How could we _let_ that happen?"

The angel sighs again, looking more fatigued than you've ever seen him. His eyes flicker to the passing survivors. "We should find a more private place to talk."

You glimpse one of the earlier girls who passed you out of the cabin. She seems to watch you and Castiel with a slightly puzzled expression. You switch back to him, finding the man already walking away. You hurry to catch up with him. "What about your… prior arrangement?"

"They'll leave when they realize I'm not there."

You stare curiously at Castiel's back, finding his response oddly cold.

As you continue to follow him, a part of you wants to dunk yourself in cold water, as if the action would clear some sense into your brain. Two of the four closest people you know are dead, you've turned yourself to stone, and the other two seem to hold some sort of grudge against you. This trip to the future is turning out to be a complete pain-in-the-butt nightmare.

After a good 15-minute walk in heavy silence, you finally notice the trail you're on has been leading the two of you further away from the other cabins. All you see on either side of the road are forestry. You wonder just where Castiel is taking you.

A minute later, you see a lake coming into view. At its edge is another cottage, had it not been for the red door, you might have missed it all together. This one, for whatever reason, is far from the rest of camp and is nearly shrouded in vines and intertwining branches. Once you reach the base of the lodging, your guide ascends the steps without explanation and pulls the door outward. You stare at the entrance with hesitation before entering.

Though the inside appears much bigger, it also looks quite empty. There's a double bed at the end of the room, flanked by windows on either side. Pushed against the right wall is a small shelf with only a handful of books occupying the racks. On the left wall are a large cedar wardrobe and a simple desk. The room is spacious and organized, even the papers on the desk are neatly stacked.

"Is this your cabin?" You ask, still peering around the room.

"No," Castiel responds by the door. "It's yours." Your surprised reaction seems to earn a look of approval. "Dean was willing to leave this cabin untouched."

You give the room another look, this time trying to imagine yourself living here: going to sleep in the bed, and waking up to the sunlight streaming in through the four windows every morning. You notice there are no curtains, and you know the future you would have never bothered to install them. You love sunlight, and sometimes it would energize and refresh you more than a good night's sleep. You wander towards the desk, tracing a hand across the wooden grain. You eye the pile of papers, pressed down at the edge by a ceramic mug. You recognize your handwriting. These are notes about the Croatoan virus; the behavior and symptoms. You were researching the disease before you… left. You can feel the angel's eyes watching you, and you remember the look on your future self's face. Just what happened between you?

"I… saw myself outside Kansas City. …What's become of me anyways." You feel the air stir, and you sense Castiel's tension from behind you. Turning around, you pick up where you left off with your earlier question. "So what happened? Why wasn't I able to defeat Lucifer? Why did Sam die?"

There's a twisting grimace on his face, and he lets out a mirthless laugh. "You were never strong enough to seal Lucifer, much less defeat him."

"What?" You rock back. "But Lyss…"

Castiel silences you with a shake of his head. "Everything we believed was based on false conceptions. Lyss was only able to seal Lucifer all those years ago with the help of angels, channeling power from heaven."

You stiffen at the reveal, feeling your heart sink. "And the angels didn't help…"

Castiel confirms your suspicions with a grim nod. "The angels wanted a death match between Michael and Lucifer. They wanted Dean to give his consent."

"…But he never did." You realize.

"And after a while, they just got tired of waiting." He looks away. "And they left. By then, it was too late, Lucifer had already ravaged the world." He pauses, directing his gaze back to you. The same indiscernible anger flares behind his blue eyes. "Then, two years ago… you sacrificed yourself to regenerate the planet."

You latch onto the edge of the desk for support. Tentatively, you search his glower for a sign, a clue to the reason why he directs such animosity towards you. "You're blaming me. I can see it in your eyes. …Why?"

His jaw sets, his lips pulling into a humorless grin. "I suppose it's unfair when you have no idea of the things to come, or of the decisions you'll make. But this future, though unfamiliar to you is my reality. And…" He grits his teeth, and his shoulders quake with suppressed emotion. "You left me here… without even consulting me…."

You falter under his stare, finding yourself playing the role of the accused. You can feel his rage, his wrath, hammering into you.

"I rebelled! I stayed, even when all the angels left. I became mortal. For **_you_**. And yet, you just left!"

You shake your head, repelled by the agony in his verbal assault. "You said the world was dying! I had to! I must have wanted you to live!"

"You call this living?"

You flinch at the rise in his voice, but he shows no signs of holding back.

"With the whole world gone to hell, and me, stuck in a useless shell of a body." He seethes. "I would much rather die."

You stand, rooted to the ground with no words to avail you from the tidal wave of rage. His malice and ire have festered from years of loneliness, and you, despite your efforts, were the source of his misery.

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling numb. You cast your eyes to the ground, squeezing them shut in an effort to work your mind around all that's been thrust upon you.

"Cass…. I'm sorry." You offer the sincerest apology you can muster.

When you open your eyes again, Castiel has crossed the room, now standing inches from you. You edge away, but he clasps both hands to your arms and pushes you against the wall. The blaze of emotions in his eyes still you, pinning you down under its torrent. Desperation. Grief. Shame. Desire. Anger. All of which anchor you, shackling you with guilt.

But it isn't fair. It isn't _right_. This isn't your world, and these aren't your decisions.

You're about to protest, to defend yourself, but Castiel doesn't allow it. He sets his mouth over yours. Hard. And you take the kiss in abrupt surprise. The way he presses his lips against yours is forceful, greedy, and rough, almost like he's punishing you.

Your head spins, your heart torn. The kiss is harsh and cruel, and it drives a knife into your center. This isn't the Castiel you know; the Castiel you adore. He wouldn't handle you so roughly. He wouldn't hurt you.

Unable to withstand his touch any longer, you push him away. "You're not him!" You regret the words almost immediately. "T-the Castiel I know wouldn't do this…"

Castiel stumbles back, and he meets your gaze with a twisted look of pain. He holds a hand to his chest, where you pushed him. "…And what about the Alice I know, the one I trusted. The one who abandoned me and everyone she knew without even a goodbye?"

Your lips tremble, but you can't say anything.

Castiel's jaw clenches and he tears his hurt gaze from yours.

"You never should have kissed me."

He walks away, the door slamming behind him. The angel is gone.

You stand in silent shock. His words are a slap in the face. Your senses whittle back, and when the numbness dissolves, anger comes crashing through. You grab the nearest object and chuck it across the room. The mug shatters when it meets the opposite wall.

"How was I supposed to know these things would happen? How can you blame me for things I haven't done yet?!"

You slump to the floor, your hands covering your face. You draw a shaky breath. "Is this what you meant, Lyss? Is this what you warned me about?"

The spirit within you doesn't respond.

You rub your eyes, feeling spent. A part of you is still having trouble believing what the angel revealed. Did your future self really just leave and turn over to the planet without a word to anyone? If you couldn't bear telling them, why didn't you leave letters? You gave them nothing? Your forehead creases, and you begin to find the story increasingly doubtful.

You lift your head and look around. This cabin belonged to future you. Standing up, you start searching the papers. Maybe there's something in this room that may offer some insight as to what future you were thinking. Finding nothing in your notes, you pull at the drawers under the desk. Empty. Switching to the wardrobe, you explore every nook and cranny. You then turn to the shelf, snatching one book after the next, leafing through the pages. At last, something falls out. You pick up the small folded note from the floor and open it. You frown when you see what is written, hoping for something more enlightening. All that's on the parchment is a drawing of the same immortal's mark etched over the inside of your wrist and a few names of Gods from different cultures. Horus, Caelus, Ishtar, Dahomey, Ebisu, Kanaloa, Llŷr, all written with multiple questions marks after each name. You scrutinize the mysterious scrawl. Deciding to make sense of the note at a later time, you continue to comb the room. You scour every inch, inspect every dark corner. You even knock on the walls, ceiling, and floor in case there are any hidden compartments. By the time you finish, you've never been angrier with yourself.

You thread a hand through your hair, pulling at the ends. "You think with the end of the world, fighting devils and zombies, I'd start keeping a journal." You chastise yourself for the oversight. Almost all the hunters you know keep journals. Why didn't you?

"Gah!" You let out an infuriated cry. You know you've never been the diary keeping type, but you were hoping that at least you would have in this future. Too frustrated to stand in the disappointing cabin any longer, you stride towards the exit and shove the door open.

"Whoa!" A surprised voice exclaims from the other side, followed by a small thud.

You pull the door back to see the unexpected visitor.

"Uh, hey, Alice. I was just about to knock." Chuck greets you nervously and bends down to pick up his clipboard.

"Sorry, Chuck. If I'd known you were there, I wouldn't have pushed the door so hard." You're sincerely shamefaced at startling the prophet. You don't know why, but seeing him does wonders for your mood. "What can I help you with?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "You don't need to help with anything. Cass just sent me to… keep you company." He trails off then he sees your expression.

Your eyes slide across the lake and over to the path leading back to the camp, imagining Castiel's retreating form. Sighing, you turn back to Chuck and offer him a weak smile. "It's okay, Chuck. I know you're here to babysit me." You glance at his clipboard. "You've got a lot of work to do, right? Lead the way, I'll follow along."

Chuck looks up at you gratefully. "Really? You don't mind? I mean, we can do something more fun, if you'd like."

You raise an amused eyebrow. "It's the end of the world. What could there possibly be that's fun other than getting drunk off your ass?"

The prophet gives you a genuine smile, and that's when you realize why you suddenly find him so pleasant to be around. Even when everyone else has become jaded and cynical, Chuck still manages to keep his levity.

"This used to be a camp, you know, for kids. We still got all the equipment. There's fishing, canoeing, basketball, board games, even some instruments. After a successful mission, some of the guys like to have music night."

You laugh, finding the ring of your voice odd under the bleak atmosphere. "Wow, I didn't know people still did that. You know, with all the doom and gloom I've been seeing."

Chuck shrugs. "When times get hard, the small pleasures become even more important. They give you hope, ya know?"

You smile. "Thanks, Chuck. But I'd be more than happy to accompany you while you finish up your work."

"All right, then." He holds out the crook of his arm for you to hold, and you laugh again, accepting the invitation.

As he leads you away from your cabin, you give it one more lingering glance. You can't help but feel this will be the last time you'll see it.

…

"I've been meaning to ask you."

You turn your attention back to Chuck.

"I'm really glad you're back. …But how are you back?"

The edges of your lips pull into a lopsided smile. "Unfortunately, it's not like that." You rub the side of your neck when he encourages you to elaborate. "Me and Dean, the Dean you talked to earlier today. We're from the year 2009. Zachariah sent us here."

"Oh," Chuck accepts rather compliantly. "That would explain why some of the guys were so freaked." He scratches his beard. "So did Zachariah bring the two of you to help us?"

You cast your gaze downwards in thought. You don't want to dampen his mood, but you don't want to lie to him either. "In a way, I suppose." You choose your words carefully. "I think he brought us here so when we get back, we'd do things differently. And perhaps avoid this future altogether."

Chuck's eyes widen. "Wow. I've read about time travel theories. So when you return, this entire reality might unravel and cease to exist." His brows then crease with rumination. "Well, that's if we're going by the fixed timeline theory. If it's the multiverse theory, then nothing really changes, and you're potentially stuck here forever…" He mumbles on, lost in his ideas of time travel. You smile as listen to his ramble. You couldn't be more lost in all the theoretic-physical jargon, but you're thoroughly enjoying the sound of his voice.

Once you reach base camp, you watch as he directs the other survivors to where they should store all the new supplies Future-Dean and his men brought back. You more than happily help the men and women gather the boxes and carry them into different storage units. When the heavy lifting is finished, you and Chuck then visit various lodges of the mess hall, communal showers, and weapon's room to organize, categorize, and update all the new and used inventory. Needless to say, the job is demanding not to mention vital. But Chuck seems to revel in it, almost glowing as he gives out his orders.

By the time most of the work is done, it's well into the night. The two of you walk back to the vehicles to see if anything was missed. You ask him why he seems to be the only one who hasn't changed. If anything, he appears even more confident and self-assured than before.

The prophet chuckles. "I don't know. I guess it's because I've always been kind of a loner. Unlike Cass or Dean, I never really lost anyone I cared that much about." When he notices your pained expression he stutters to change the topic. "A-and, there's also the fact that I've been luckier with the ladies since the end of the world started." He laughs nervously. "Can't complain about that." Chuck manages to bring back your smile.

"You're cute, Chuck. And a great guy. It's stupid that it had to take Armageddon for women to see that." You smile wider when you see his cheeks tint. "But, better late than never."

"Thanks, Alice." Chuck scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

You lose your smile when Cass enters your vision. He brushes past you and Chuck without acknowledgment. You notice the prophet almost flinch when the angel passes him.

Castiel shouts out orders, rousing the surrounding men. They're to get ready for their long-awaited mission to kill Lucifer.

You and Chuck share looks of surprise, but you're filled with much more concern. You approach the angel, despite your better judgement. "Cass, when is this happening? Who decided this?"

Castiel sends you a stern look, his eyes briefly flashing to the prophet behind you. "Dean's the one leading the missions. We're leaving right now." Switching his glare to Chuck, he tells him to prepare the supplies. Castiel doesn't pay you any more attention, pouring all his focus into assembling the mission necessities.

You glance around, watching all the rush of movements about you. Turning, you run back to the main cabin and search for Present-Dean. When you spy him sitting on the porch steps looking disgruntled, you slow down to a walk. Exhaling, you take a seat next to him. "This future really blows."

Dean scoots over to give you more room. "Yeah. You can say that again."

You peer over to his hunched figure. "Cass said future-you is taking everyone on a mission to kill Lucifer tonight."

Dean frowns. "Yeah. We're on the roster as well."

"We are?" You ask incredulously.

"Future-me thinks it'll be a good idea since we got Zachariah looking after us." He turns a curious glance to you, but before he can ask his question, a pair of legs enter your vision, coupled with an intimidating aura.

You raise your head reluctantly.

Future-Dean thrusts an assault rifle into Present-Dean's chest, and the man catches it with a grunt. He glares at his double for the sudden interruption. Future-Dean then turns to you, holding an identical rifle for you to take. You make a face, but bring your hands up to receive the weapon nonetheless. You look at him questioningly when he doesn't let go.

"Make sure you don't shoot any of us."

Your lips twitch, holding down a biting remark.

Pivoting, the man barks out, "Get to the cars, the both of you."

Dean glowers at his future-self's back before standing up. "Never thought I'd want to punch myself in the face so badly."

You snort. "Now you know how I feel almost daily."

The hunter gives you a snide grin. "Better find Cass, then. You know where he is?"

You avoid his gaze and point to where you last saw the angel. "Yeah. He was over by the weapon's room just a few minutes ago. I'm gonna go hitch a ride with your double." You take off before the man can say anything. When you find the fearless leader, he's lugging two heavy duffels onto the back of his pick-up. He sees your approach but doesn't say anything. Even once you stop a few feet away, he continues to concentrate on checking the magazines of his firearms.

You square your shoulders. "Mind if I sit shotgun?"

Future-Dean gives you a hard look. You see a slight hardening of his jaw, but otherwise, there is no reply. Latching the magazine back in, he flicks the safety on. Turning, he walks around to the driver's side and gets into the truck.

Taking his silence as a yes, you pop open the passenger door and step in. When you slam the door shut, you catch sight of the woman named Risa eyeing you from her own vehicle. You can't distinguish her emotion, but you know she's curious about you.

The engine roars to life, and Future-Dean quickly shifts the gears and pulls the truck onto the drive path. From the side mirror, you can see four cars following a few meters behind. The car jostles as the tires roll against the gritty dirt path.

Your thoughts trail to the mission you're about to endeavor, and you wonder just what the man beside you planned for.

"So how are you going to kill Lucifer?"

His gaze flickers to you for a second. Taking a hand off the steering wheel, he slips it into his jacket and produces a handgun. This gun looks particularly old, with a sleek barrel and a small pentagram carved into the base of the handle. Memory serves you, and you realize what Dean is holding.

As the man slides the gun back into the holster next to his chest, you can't help but wonder if this Colt is capable of killing Lucifer. You've heard Sam and Dean talk about this gun before, and of its amazing prowess in killing powerful demons. But Lucifer isn't a demon.

You're full of doubts, but you keep them to yourself. You don't think Dean would listen either way. Instead, you decide to ask another question.

"What do you plan to do afterwards… once you kill the devil."

You half expect the man to remain taciturn, but when he responds you almost start from surprise.

"Why do you care? You won't be sticking around long enough to find out anyhow."

It's then that you detect a note of malice in his voice, and you're taken aback. All this time you thought Future-Dean was just being a hard-ass to everyone, but now you realize his callous treatment of you had been intentional. You scowl. Just who didn't your future-self piss off?

"Don't tell me. You're mad at me too?"

Dean's glower deepens, his eyes still fixated on the road. With a low growl, he replies, "Cass isn't the only one you left behind."

You grit your teeth and turn towards the side window, enduring the rest of the drive in silence.

XX

When you reach your destination, it's dawn. Looking around, you get out of the car. Everyone is on edge as they gather their supplies. The city is strangely quiet, and you can sense a mixture of confusion, wariness, and relief from the group.

You fall in step with Present-Dean as Future-Dean leads you through the rubble. You shoot the man a questioning glance, asking with your eyes if he is aware of what is going on. The man's mute response is unsure, indicating that he only knows half the story. He then jerks his head towards Castiel, silently asking you what had happened between the two of you. You only frown and shake your head.

When the group finally stops walking, future Dean has led everyone to a large bricked building. The entire perimeter is fenced with a no trespassing sign that says JACKSON COUNTY SANITORIUM.

Signaling with a turn of his hand, Future-Dean tells everyone to set themselves behind an overturned car surrounded by a wall of bushes. Originally meant for garden deco, the plants have since grown wild and rampant. You crouch on the ground with the rest of the group, holding onto the assault rifle in an awkward manner. Castiel is still giving you the cold shoulder, but you notice him staring at you when he thinks you're not looking.

Future-Dean tells everyone to get ready and directs towards the point of entry.

"You sure about this?" Risa asks. You can feel the growing apprehension stirring within her.

"They'll never see us coming," Future-Dean assures. "Trust me. Now weapons check. We move in five."

You catch Present-Dean narrowing his eyes. As everyone is busy cocking open their guns, Dean calls his future double away. You watch their receding backs, wanting to follow. You wonder what your friend saw.

"Hey, if you're not careful with that, it could lock up." Risa's voice cuts in, jolting you from your thoughts.

You glance at the woman, then back down to your weapon, giving her a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Guess, I'm nervous."

Her face softens. "Here, let me."

You gladly pass her your rifle, and she checks the weapon for you. You're surprised at how kind she's being, given the misunderstanding she's had about you since your arrival. You feel bad lying to her, but there's really no sense in telling her you have no use with a gun. From the corner of your vision, you catch Castiel watching you again, and you force your eyes on anything but him.

When Future-Dean returns, he is alone.

You search the area behind him. "Where's Dean?"

There's a stone set glint in the man's eyes as he turns to you. "Had to knock him out."

You tense. "Why?" You can hear the confused shifting of others beside you.

Future-Dean frowns. "I'm not gonna lie, I'm not proud of this, but he wanted to bail because he was having second thoughts about the plan." When he starts to see expressions of unease, he silences everyone with a sharp look. "I'm not happy about this either, but we have waited far too long and worked too hard on this plan to back out in the last second. After today, this whole thing could be over. We kill the devil, and we get our world back."

His words reinvigorate the men, and you can feel their building excitement emanating. You, however, remain skeptical. Your instincts tell you Future-Dean is hiding something, but he's still Dean, and you would trust him with your life.

"Are you just going to leave him here? What if he gets attacked?" You ask.

"There's no point in worrying. Zachariah would never let anything happen to him." He motions for everyone to get ready, and you reluctantly obey his command. Slicing his hand downwards, he signals for the group to advance.

With weapons at ready, you and the others charge past the fence and race up the stairs. Two men in the front kick open the doors while the rest of you have your barrels pointed and ready. The entrance swings open, revealing nothing but an abandoned foyer within. Cautiously, everyone steps inside, scanning the room in a circle formation. You're the last one to enter, and you feel increasingly strung. Your senses are honed to the sharpness of a pin, and it dances erratically to the hum of the air. As you move further inwards, the silence continues to persist. Then, the front doors close.

Your senses go haywire.

You shouldn't have come here.

Just as you're about to let out your warning, malicious energy flood the room. All around you, humans infected with the Croatoan virus pour in from various halls. Behind them, you can see demons standing over the second-floor landing armed with weapons of their own.

"It was a trap!" You don't know who shouted, but the cry is immediately swallowed by the spitting of bullets. The group splits apart, diving for cover, all the while gunning down as many of the infected humans as they can. To your left, one of the volunteers fall. A shot fired by a demon penetrated his left eye.

You immediately drop your rifle and rip off your bracelet. A telekinetic wave bursts from the unleashing of the seal. Everyone within a ten-meter radius of you knocks back. Focusing your energy, you send out a surge of power towards the demons, cracking apart their guns. The infected humans are unfazed, bulldozing towards your group with no regard for their wellbeing. Shots continue to ring out around you, cutting down dozens of savage humans on the frontlines. But their numbers are overwhelming, and the berth between your enemies and your group is dwindling.

You cry out another spell, and an invisible force carves through the bodies of five oncoming attackers. Your vision doubles. Something is wrong. Shaking your head, you continue concentrating your energy, bellowing spell after spell. Your head swims again, and you stumble. What is happening? Why are you dizzy? Why do you feel so drained? You shouldn't be this feeble. When you faced off against Raphael, you had split the ground open and tore the roof off the house just from sheer anger. And yet, here, even with your spells, you're barely holding your own. And then you remember. After your confrontation with Raphael, you had lost consciousness. Did the same thing not happen once you defeated the Sluagh? Dean had said you slept for three days. Can it be, then? That you're still too spent from your last battle.

You hear more cries over the carnage, jerking you back to the carnage. One of them is discernibly female.

"Risa!" You call out.

All around you are the approaching enemies. You can't seem to find a single friendly face. "Cass!" You scream desperately. You can only hear the sounds of bloodthirsty growls surrounding you. Gritting your teeth, you throw out a final incantation.

 _"_ _Arfervi!"_

A ring of sparks flares around you, erupting into violent flames. You grab a gutting knife from the belt of the volunteer's body that lay next to you. Before the blaze starts to die, you push off against the floor and tear into the throng of infected humans. Adrenaline drums in your ear, pumping strength and ferocity through your veins and muscles. You slash, gouge, and rip, hacking away one opponent to the next. All you can focus on is finding Castiel. You won't let him die. You won't fail him. Not this time.

Two hands surge in front of you, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt and pulling you forward. A face flies into view, his mouth opening wide eager to clamp down at your throat. You push the knife downward, sending the blade past his open mouth and into his larynx. Jerking the edge back out, you thrust your foot into his stomach and propel off his falling body. Twisting in the air, you position your limbs from the reach of enemy claws and land past a row of attackers. Snapping the knife between your teeth, you pummel your fist into the chest of another infected. Before the body could fall, you seize the throat and belt, heaving the corpse over your head and flinging it back to the group of enemies. The tainted humans fall back, and you swivel around, bolting in the opposite direction. You had searched the space while you were in the air, and you couldn't find your angel. You can only surmise he's been pushed back to another wing of the sanatorium.

Up ahead, you catch sight of a group of demons with raised guns aimed at you. You veer left just as they pull the trigger. Leaping to the walls, you kick across its surface and charge towards the group. You alter directions again when their barrels find you. More shots ring out, and in midair, the bullets snag you. You gnash your teeth and sail through the rest of the distance. In swift strokes, you exert enough force to slice through the demons' throats, near decapitating the first three. Unable to obtain a proper landing from your wounds, you crash onto the floor in a mess of limbs. Your arms barely have enough time to shield your head in the fall. When you push your face off the stained tiles, you find the bullets have penetrated your right thigh, stripped a large chunk of your left calf, and embedded a few rounds in your side and shoulders. With a heavy gasp, you try to lift yourself up. You cry out when your legs buckle, the flayed nerves screaming in protest. You curse yourself for being so reckless. Had you been in perfect condition, you would have cut the demons down with barely a scratch. But when you're so drained from using your spells, you're nowhere near adequate to face these adversaries. Your head whips to the left. More demons and infected humans are coming.

Through the swarm, you catch glimpses of the bodies of Risa and the other men. The Croatoan infected humans are tearing into their already lifeless remains. You stare at the oncoming attackers, sitting immobile on the floor. What happened? What is going on? Is this how you die? Wasn't Zachariah supposed to protect you?

The horde continues to advance, and your mind whirls in a futile effort in search of options. Why hasn't Lyss awakened yet? Why isn't she helping you right when you need her the most?

"Alice!"

You jolt at the familiar voice.

Castiel lunges out from the turn of the hallway, firing rounds from his assault rifle. The group of demons at the front rattle as their bodies eat up the bullets. He grabs you roughly by the arm and wrenches you towards him. While the hall is temporarily cleared, Castiel drags you away and back around the corner.

The man is hurt, bleeding from various injuries from his head, arms and legs. You want to tell him to let you go. You're an immortal, even if you do die, you'll only be reborn again. And, you're supposed to have Zachariah watching over you. He wouldn't let you die, not until you've fulfilled your duty first. But you can't bring yourself to say any of those things. You only stare at the strained face of your ally.

"God dammit. How did we get into this situation?" Castiel rips off a piece of his shirt and starts winding the fabric around your injured thigh.

"Cass, don't bothe-" Your words are caught in your throat as you spy the glint of a barrel. A demon had stepped out from the edge of an adjacent corridor while Castiel fussed over you.

The barrel jerks upward, a silent shot bursts from its opening.

Your hand reaches out, but you're too late.

The bullet whirls through the air, striking Castiel through the temple just as he's turning his head.

Blood splatters across your cheek and the angel falls towards you. His head lands on your lap, his expression dark and empty.

* * *

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! Reviewers get saved from zombie hordes by a human Castiel!**


	10. To Catch an Echo

Your hands tremble over Castiel's unmoving form. You don't understand what's happening. You don't understand why he isn't moving.

Crimson fluid continues to leak onto your jeans, but his eyes remain open. They're still so blue, so clear.

Your hands press over his shoulder, and you shake him.

 _Cass, wake up._

You shake him some more.

 _Wake up!_

Why isn't he moving? Why? Why? Why?

You grab his head, and your grip is so hard your fingers dig into his cheeks.

"Wake up, you stupid angel! Wake up! You're angry with me, right? Then get up and yell at me some more! I know you want to! Wake-" Your voice chokes back, jumbling your words into a broken sob. The clawing emotions solidify into a painful lump in your throat. You can no longer speak.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you cradle Castiel in your arms, rocking back and forth. Your lips twist into a painful grimace, unable to form any words. The only sound that tumbles out are but grief-stricken gasps. Your vision blurs. The world around you spins, faster and faster, until your mind can no longer make sense of time and space. Everything turns white.

You let out a feral cry, the sound suffused with every ounce of despair and regret blistering within you.

You think you hear enemies approaching, but you don't care anymore. All you can feel is a sea of madness, and its fiery dark pulls you in, drowning you.

You are Anger.

You are Grief.

Power ripples from your body, swelling and gushing outward in a tidal wave of agony. Everything within your sight scorches black, incinerating any and all objects in its path. The demons and infected humans cry out the moment they're reduced to ash.

The ground trembles, fissures appearing. In the burst of one second, branches, roots, and vines explode through the walls, floor and ceiling. Windows crack and shatter from the intrusion of the dark plants. Their vicious, gnarled limbs crawl across the space until they wrap protectively around you.

When your consciousness starts to pool back, you're staring into the lifeless eyes of your angel. Your cheeks burn from the acidity of your tears.

You hear footsteps walking up to you, and you turn a scathing glare towards it. The protective cocoon of plant life charges forth to defend you from the intruder.

The figure stops, all the twisting branches pointing a deadly edge to the man's head.

"My, how the great and powerful guardian has fallen."

The blurry edges of your vision subside, sharpening the image of what stands before you.

A pair of gleaming hazel eyes lowers down at your form. Lucifer, glowing with cold light, wears the skin of the younger Winchester. The fabric of his unblemished white suit wraps around his robust form. His mouth curls with disdain.

Your lips quiver. "Why are you doing this?"

The fallen angel upturns his head, belittling you with his regard. "Why else? Because I can." He smirks. "After all the thousands of years I spent sealed away by you and the other angels, the world owes me this. You owe me this." His eyes flicker to Castiel, and you instinctively tighten your hold over his body. "And that," he drawls, "is only the beginning of what you're going to pay me."

Your anger flares, and the branches surge towards him in response. However, before Lucifer is touched, the wooden arms rot and crumble from tip to root. Despite the failed attack, your rage persists. You snarl at him through gritted teeth, "I won't let this happen! I'll stop it."

The man rolls his eyes, sighing. "Not this again. I just had the same conversation with Dean. Why won't you people ever accept when you've lost? It's over." His cold gaze flashes. "You won't stop this. You can _never_ stop this. Because, guess what?" He takes a menacing step forward and leans down next to your ear. "I've already won."

Lucifer vanishes.

You're alone again.

You stare back down to Castiel's face. Slowly, you close your eyes and touch your forehead to his. It's all you can do to keep yourself from falling apart. The angel's skin is still warm against yours.

You barely register when a hand grips your shoulder.

And then everything disappears, and your arms are empty.

You open your eyes.

You're sitting on the floor in a completely different place. The ground is no longer in shambles. There are no red pools spilling across the walls and tiles. The room is devoid of any signs of violence and death. But what shakes you most of all, is the vacancy in your arms. The weight of Castiel's body is gone, and you can find no trace of him near you. The blood from his temple no longer stains your thigh, and all the injuries you've sustained are erased.

Your heart stutters at the sudden change. You're still shell shocked from all you've experienced.

A vexed grumble sounds from beside you. "Fool me twice…."

The familiar voice of Zachariah draws your attention, and you turn your head numbly towards it.

Zachariah studies you with indifference. "I may have allowed you to marinate a bit too long."

Your eyes start to take in the surroundings, and your brain clicks back into function.

The nightmare is over. You're back in your time, which means Castiel, Sam, and Dean are alive.

You think you must be in a hotel room, but the walls and windows are covered with blood marks. You recognize them to be warding… of the angel variety.

Your face twists with anger, and you send a withering glower towards the snide-faced angel. You don't care how harrowed and pitiful you may look with your tear-stained face. You can still feel Castiel's body in your arms, still remember the bullet penetrating his skull as death passed over his face.

"Just what do you want from me?" You snarl. "I already swore to protect the world! Why did you make me see that?"

Zachariah's lips twist with irritation. "Because, you miserable pile of immortal filth! Dean is still a bullheaded cretin. Even after all he saw, he still won't give Michael his consent!"

If you didn't feel so hollow, you would have laughed outright. Your glare deepens. "And what? You expect I'll be able to convince him?"

Your jeering tone provokes a throbbing vein in his neck. His eyes blaze with much contempt, but he only allows a derisive sneer to mar his face. "Of course, I wouldn't expect you to have such sense."

You snort in response.

"But, as long as I have you in my possession, we have leverage."

Your eyes widen. But before you can say another word, the door to the room is blown open. You cover your face as the wood splinters, tearing off from the hinges and blasting to the opposing wall. When you lower your arms to see what caused the explosion, your jaw drops.

Standing at the threshold in thigh high leather boots and a tight black dress is your friend Maggie. She sets her stilettoed heel to the ground and raises a hand. An unfamiliar rune glows from her palm as she mutters incantations under her breath.

Just as Zachariah tries to approach, a flash of light discharges from her hand and engulfs the room in white.

You squeeze your eyes shut from the glare. When you open them, Zachariah is gone. You look over to the woman in awe. Your mouth opens and closes in gaping silence.

Maggie hurries towards you and lifts you up by your arms. "Sorry, I came as soon as I could locate you."

"M-Maggie. What…?"

She walks past you, quickly snatching up various objects that you soon realize are your and Dean's belongings. "We don't have much time before more of them show up." She stuffs your things hastily into the two duffle bags before throwing the one of them into your arms. "C'mon. We gotta go." She grasps your wrist and pulls you out of the room.

Maggie runs with you in tow, and you continue to stare mesmerized by her presence. "Maggie," you breathe out, finally finding your voice. "How… did you do that to Zachariah? How did you find me?"

The lavender haired woman stops you at an emergency exit. Pushing the door open, she glances past the threshold before pulling you through and down the stairs. "I know this is a lot to take in, and I'm sorry I lied to you. But right now, I need to get you safely back to your friends."

The two of you reach the bottom floor. Throwing open the final door, you and Maggie leap into the side alley of the hotel.

In front of you sits a silver sports car, stalling in the narrow space.

"Your angel friend is looking for you. We have to hurry." She pulls open the door and ushers you to the passenger seat. She then skids to the other side and quickly gets behind the wheel.

"Cass is looking for me? How do you know?" You gasp out. There's a million questions running through your head, and you don't know which you should address first.

Maggie shows no signs of hearing you. Changing gears, she quickly slams her foot on the gas pedal and pulls the car in reverse. Sliding out of the alleyway, she propels the vehicle recklessly onto the road, eliciting multiple honks and angry curses from surrounding drivers. Glaring through the windshield, your friend seems to search the passing scenery with unnatural suspicion.

"Can you call him to meet to us at Fleming Park? It should be pretty empty at this hour."

You stare at her wordlessly. Your brain somehow refuses to function.

Her eyes pass over you, and she decides to reach for your belongings. The duffle bags have been thrown into the back seat, and Maggie twists back with near inhuman speed to grab yours. With one hand still on the steering wheel, her other hand delves around for your cellphone. When she finds it, she quickly scrolls through the contact history, her eyes flickering back and forth from the road to the screen. She thumbs the call button and holds the phone to her ear.

There's a clicking sound signaling the call went through. Castiel's worried voice appears through the speaker, jolting you out of your stupor.

"Alice? Where are you?"

Before you can say anything, Maggie answers for you.

"Alice is fine. She's sitting in the car next to me. I'm a friend of hers, and I'm driving her to Fleming Park. The address is 22807 Woods Chapel Road. If you can meet us there, that'd be great." The woman promptly ends the call, not allowing any response from the angel. She tosses the phone to you, and you catch it with fumbling hands.

You stare at the device and back to her. "Maggie. How the hell are you doing all this? I need some answers."

The lavender haired girl nods in understanding. "And I will. But there's no time right now. Rest assured, I'm here to help you. I'm your friend after all." She gives you a sincere smile.

You think back to the time you saved her life. How helpless and afraid she had looked then, juxtaposed to the confident and reliable air emanating from her form. "A-are you… human?"

Maggie's smile grows a bit sheepish, answering your question.

You arrive at the park entrance within minutes. It's four a.m., and there's no one around the vicinity save for the few passing cars on the larger roads. A lamppost further down the drive path flickers, and in the next second, you see Castiel.

Garbed in his usual trench coat and business suits, he strides towards you.

When Maggie leans over and pushes your side of the car door open, you snap out of it. She urges you to get out, and you unwittingly oblige. Just as you turn around again, Maggie has grabbed the two duffle bags and is throwing them your way. Your arms catch them in reflex. When she closes the door again, Castiel is by your side. His presence thieves your attention, and the angel becomes all you see.

"Alice, are you all right? I'm sorry, I'm late. I never expected Zachariah to find you so soon." He searches your face, eyes full of concern.

Your gaze traces over the angel's features, his long lashes, his ocean eyes, the dip of his nose and the curve in his lips. Castiel is alive. He's standing right in front of you. You don't know if it's the dark or your vision playing tricks on you, but he seems to glow. Your heart stutters at the sight, and you want to cry.

His attention is briefly distracted by the sound of rolling windows, and you're pulled back to reality. Remembering Maggie's company, you glance back to your friend through the opening.

"Alice, I have to go. The two of you should get out of the city as soon as possible."

You place a hand over the rising glass and it stops. "Wait. You still need to explain-"

"I promise I will. You have my number, Alice. Go and get some rest. Then, when you're ready, call me whenever you want. I'll meet you and tell you everything you want to know." She puts a hand over your own and lifts your fingers off the window. "Take care of yourself." Switching back to the front, she closes up the window again and drives off.

You stare on after her as the car speeds up and disappears around the corner.

"Alice." Castiel's voice brings you back to him. He reaches over and takes the bags from you. You completely forgot you were carrying them, but you're grateful nonetheless. "We should leave."

You glance around the dark space before giving him a nod. The angel raises his hand to your forehead and the two of you vanish from the park.

~Castiel's P.O.V.~

"Where is she? Where's Alice?"

Dean looks at me with wild eyes. His body is still jittery from the sudden transportation.

It's been hours since Alice's presence vanished. It was as though the thread that connected me to her was snipped.

I scoured the world for her, only to find that Dean was also missing. It was then I realized Zachariah must have been behind their disappearances.

Fortunately, I had been conversing with the hunter that night, and he provided me with his and Alice's exact location. It wasn't the first time Zachariah sent Dean to a different timeline, and I could only assume this incident would be no different.

So, I waited nearby, and ironically, my dwindling seraphic powers allowed me to pass freely without detection. Nor were there any wards set against me. My former commander was getting careless. When Dean returned, I swooped in and snatched him away as soon as Zachariah's guard was down.

Now, we are miles outside the city, on a road in between acres of farmland and forestry. With my weakened state and Dean's sigil, they won't be able to locate us anytime soon.

The hunter draws out quick shallow breaths. "Nice timing, Cass!" When he sees my urgency, he quickly adopts a more serious visage.

I take my hand from his shoulder, the fingers curling into a fist. I turn my frown away. "I can't sense her."

"Hey, don't worry! We'll get her. She's tough, so she can handle herself until then." Dean crosses his arms, his forehead puckering. "She wasn't with me when Zachariah brought me back, so it might mean that she's still stuck in the future." A puzzling look passes over his face, and he directs his gaze to me. "Doesn't Alice have that protection thing you carved into our ribs? So technically, you shouldn't be able to sense her even if she's back."

I look away. There's no point in wasting time explaining things to him when I don't even understand why it is I am able to feel her presence. As long as Zachariah has Alice, I can't relax.

The last time he took her, Alice had a near fatal wound. My jaw clenches. I had idly stood back and watched while Zachariah plunged that knife into her stomach. I was a coward, afraid, nothing more than a soldier puppet. But not anymore. I may not know what heaven's plans are for her, or of why they're even still interested in her, but I won't let them. I'll bring Alice back.

I turn around and take a step in the opposite direction. I manage two strides before I'm stopped. I glance down at my left arm, where Dean had grabbed me. He lets go almost immediately.

"If you're going to get Alice, I'm coming too."

My gaze softens. "You can't. I have to go alone. If I brought you along, we'd only be delivering you to Zachariah on a silver platter. And I'm not nearly strong enough to go against him as I am."

Dean's determination falters. "Damn. I forgot, you're cut off." He gives a scowling sigh and rubs the back of his neck. "Dammit. I guess it's better if I go find Sam." He slaps a hand on my shoulder. "You be careful, all right? Call me as soon as anything happens. If you need help, I'll be there."

I dip my head in a nod. Turning back around, Dean drops his hand, and I take off.

…

I land on the roof of a business building a few blocks from the hotel. I narrow my eyes into the glittering lights of the city. I don't know why, but I can feel Alice's presence again. The signal is weak and garbled, like glimpsing an image through a shroud. I glare in the hotel's direction. Zachariah must have finally warded Alice from me and is now holding her hostage. My mouth draws back into a snarl. I can feel my insides burn. I've never felt such animosity.

My senses scan the premise. At various points near the hotel, there are angels standing guard. They form a defensive circle around the building. I'll likely be captured if not killed the moment I set foot within their borders.

I curse in Enochain.

I travel the length of their border, disappearing then reappearing at different stations nearing the angel sentries. I can't get near at all. Any closer and my brothers will sense me. Nor can I charge in. I'll be rendered powerless in an instant. I curse again. Is this what helplessness feels like? How do humans stand it?

Then, something nudges me in the back of my mind. I veer my head towards it. It's Alice. Her energy signature. It's moving.

I stay where I am, my mind tracking her movements. I don't understand. Her signal is no longer covered. I can feel the bright burning of her light. Is Zachariah moving her? If so, why not simply whisk her away into another continent all together? Why remove the wards?

Unless…

I strain my senses, focusing even harder on her energy.

Unless Alice had somehow found a way to escape. But how…?

I cock my head to the side, examining her progress. From the speed Alice is moving, she must be in a car.

I transport myself to the roof of another edifice, following after her. I keep a vigilant distance from the other angels.

Just as I'm about to change locations, my pocket vibrates. I freeze.

It takes me a second to register that it's my cellphone. Irritation gnaws at me, and I take it out.

I expect Dean's number to roll across the screen, and my eyes widen when it's not.

 _~…Flipping the phone open, Alice then proceeds to press a series of buttons. "I know you can't find us if we don't directly call out your name. So, if you ever need to reach me, you now have my number."…~_

It's Alice. She's calling me. I bring the phone to my ears immediately.

"Alice, where are you?"

I strain my ears for her voice. But it isn't Alice who answers. The voice is foreign, and she tells me she is a friend of Alice, and that the girl is fine. The woman doesn't allow me to reply, and continues to give me the address of a nearby park. I grip onto the phone with impatience.

"…If you can meet us there, that'd be great."

"Let me speak-", but the line is already dead. I glare at the space in front of me. Why is it that people keep closing their calls before I'm finished? I frown. My agitation morphs into wariness. Should I trust her and wait at the park? Is it a trap? It certainly isn't too far from here.

My thoughts wander to my past conversations with Alice. She never mentioned any friends other than the Winchesters. And, if she was fine, why didn't she use the phone herself? My eyes narrow, and I search for the presence of the other angels. They have yet to mobilize. Alice is sliding by right under their noses.

I tightened my hold over the device. If this is an opportunity to save her, then I must take it. And should this _friend_ reveal to be an enemy, I'll simply kill her.

I launch myself into the air and speed in the direction of the park. Only a moment elapses when I arrive at the widest entrance. Large metal gates curl around the perimeter of the park, forming a yawning archway at its front with the word FLEMING PARK in rigid font. Just behind the black bars, thick trees and bushes press through the spaces and intertwine across the metal. The park is completely deserted, save for myself. I turn my head northwards. I can feel Alice approaching the park.

My eyes flash to a nearby apartment building, and I land on its roof a second later. I glance down, finding the view to the park and the entrance to be quite tactical. A small road trails from the gate, leading back to the larger avenues. The streetlights that line the road are sparse, rendering the path significantly darker than its larger counterparts. At the end of the path, I catch the shine of a silver vehicle. It's one of the few cars driving at this time. It makes an abrupt turn, the wheels screeching with the burning of rubber. The vehicle greatly reduces its speed before it comes to a complete halt at the park entrance. I scrutinize the silver hood. It's Alice. There's no doubt about it.

I leap from my building and reemerge under a streetlamp a few meters from the car. Then, I see her. I can feel my insides unclench, my mind flooded with mind-bending relief.

Alice sees me, and our gazes lock. She's all right. She's unharmed.

Then, the face of an unfamiliar woman appears from behind her. She reaches over past Alice and pushes the car door open. Alice is ushered out, and she stumbles as she exits.

I narrow my gaze at the companion and stride towards them. I can't seem to get a read on her energy. She didn't seem angelic or demonic, but she didn't have the essence of a human either. Somehow, her impression is so faint, if I wasn't so wary of her, I might have mistaken her existence for a small animal or an inanimate object. I dispel the angel blade from my hand. This woman isn't an enemy.

Alice doesn't seem quite ready to part with the other woman. She turns back to the car, only to have two cylindrical bags tossed at her. She catches them with fumbling hands. I am by her side in the next instant, and I grab onto her arm.

"Alice, are you all right? I'm sorry, I'm late. I never expected Zachariah to find you so soon." I examine her face and body. She doesn't seem injured. My eyes rise to her face again when I notice the way she's staring at me. Her gaze seems dazed, like she doesn't quite believe what she's seeing. There's a tremble in her lips, and I scrutinize her visage. Now that I'm not searching for signs of wounds, I get a clearer look at her face. The lower edges of her eyes are rimmed with red, and her cheeks are stained. Her dark irises waver with an emotion I can't quite place.

Anger scorches through me. Had she been crying? Was it Zachariah? What did he do to her? I can feel the violence stirring within me.

"Alice, I have to go."

The voice breaks me from my dark thoughts, and I turn my attention towards the woman.

"The two of you should get out of the city as soon as possible." She presses a button, and a glass partition starts to rise from the edge of the car window closest to us.

I study Alice's friend. Now that I'm closer, I have a better view of her painted face. The woman has unnatural green eyes and the light purple shade of her hair is even more unusual. I can't tell if her appearance is her true form or a mere fabrication. However, she isn't wrong. Now that Alice has escaped, the angels will be searching the city for her, if they're not already.

Alice is awoken from her stupor. She jerks towards the car, placing a hand over the rising glass. The whirring sound stops, temporarily halted by her hand.

"Wait! You still need to explain-" But her words are cut off by the friend. The woman assures her that they will meet again. She offers her a small smile. Reaching over, she gently peels Alice's fingers off the window's edge. The woman then bids her farewell, and the window shuts. A low rumble emits from within the car's front, and she drives off. The roaring of the engine disappears when the silver car turns the corner and back onto the main streets.

I turn back to catch Alice's worried expression, then to the two cumbersome bags still buried in her arms. I grab onto the canvas latches of both and ease the burden from her. Alice gives me a thankful look.

"We should leave."

The caution in my tone seems to make Alice warier of the surroundings. She dips her head in a hesitant nod. I lift my hand towards her forehead. Alice closes her eyes and waits for me. My fingers twitch for a brief second before they make contact with her skin. It's been quite a few days since I last touched her, and I still remember the feel of her. My jaw sets, and I force the memory from me. I draw the celestial energy from my low reserves, and my wings extend, enveloping us both. With a single flutter, I transport us from the city, erasing our presence from the park gates.

We appear silently in a dark room, miles away in a new town. The younger Winchester has been residing in this community for quite some time, and I know Dean will be making his way here shortly. When I take my hand back, Alice opens her eyes. She blinks, adjusting to the darkness and looks around.

"Where are we? … It looks like a motel room."

I place the cylindrical bags on the table next to me. "Yes. I assumed you would find a familiar setting to be more comfortable. This motel is only a while from where Dean is supposed to meet Sam."

Alice jerks at the sound of the hunter's name. "Dean! He's okay? Zachariah had taken him too!"

I hold up a hand to calm her. "Don't worry. Dean is fine. I rescued him the moment Zachariah brought him back."

Her shoulders fall, her face full of relief. She lowers her gaze to the floor, suddenly wistful. "So Dean's finally going to meet Sam. That's great." Her speech doesn't match her expression, and the look in her eyes sets me on edge.

"Alice, tell me what happened. What did Zachariah do to you?"

She grimaces at my question. Her shoulders pull against her as if she's trying to physically withdraw into herself.

I've never seen her like this. Shaken and listless. My hand starts to move of its own accord, and I stop myself. I want to touch her; to press my palms to her cheeks and brush away those tear stains. I want to turn her face towards me so I can look at her. I steel myself.

Her shoulders tremble, and she brings one gripping hand over the other in an attempt to maintain control. I force myself to be patient, to wait so she can collect herself. What did I know of consoling the pained? I curse my own uselessness.

Alice finally opens her mouth to speak, though the first few sounds are nothing but weak breaths. "…Zachariah took us to the future, to the year 2014."

I suspected as much.

"… And in that future, Lucifer had won."

The news shouldn't have surprised me, but I am disappointed nonetheless. "I see. What did you find out?"

Alice swallows, and her mouth pulls back in a cringe. "Sam was gone, and so was Bobby. Most people on Earth were dead. Dean was still alive… but changed. And I…"

I watch her tentative expression, my interest thoroughly peaked. Could she have met her future self? "And you?" I press.

Alice shakes her head. "… I-I wasn't there…"

My brows knit. So her future-self must have perished. Something must have happened in that future that not only prevented Alice from re-sealing Lucifer, but also sent her to her demise. The news is unsettling. I pause. "And where was I, or the other angels?"

Alice suddenly freezes, her eyes strangely blank. Her pupils are dilated, as if seeing some horrible occurrence that I can't. Blood drains from her crestfallen visage. The girl is a picture of despair.

Alarm sears through me. "Alice, what's wrong?"

Her lips quiver. "… All my fault. It's all my fault."

The girl is rambling now. I grab onto her shoulder, slighting shaking her. "Alice, you're not making any sense."

She flinches from my touch, and her face finally turns to me. Her expression is distorted by pain, her eyes filled to the brim with raw guilt.

"If I wasn't there. …If he wasn't protecting me, he wouldn't have died! _You_ wouldn't have died!" Alice brings her trembling hands to her face. "It's all my fault!"

I stare as the immortal in front of me, near delirium with remorse, continues to berate herself. Alice had seen my death, and is ravaged by it. She _grieves_ for me, and blames herself to such an extent...

My body moves before I can comprehend my actions. My hand reaches for her wrist, and I pull her in. When I realize, I'm already… embracing… her.

My arms are wrapped around her back, pressing her to my chest. Her scent washes over me, and I can feel myself drowning in it again. Her form is small… and still wondrously soft… but I catch myself. Alice is pained right now, vulnerable. I can't lose focus now.

"I'm alive, Alice. I'm right here." I try to reassure her. To see her so distraught over my wellbeing brings me a strange sort of happiness, and I am a bit shamed to draw feelings of contention from her distress.

Alice's head lies against my shoulder, and a chocked shudder escapes her lips. The sound shakes me from my reverie.

I am reminded of how self-assured and certain Alice usually seemed, and the stark difference between her old self and the way she is now rattles me. I can't imagine the tragedies she must have experienced to have rendered her like this.

Her fingers dig into my coat, fisting the fabric. Her trembling sobs have died, and there is a stirring change about her. I begin to feel a shift in her emotion. Her grief is morphing into anger.

"… I won't let it happen." She rasps through gritted teeth. "I won't. I'll stop it. I'll stop him." She repeats like a mantra.

I sigh, my arms still locked around her. I don't want to let her go. There's an odd desire in me, hoping that she would rely on me. I want her to let down her guard. I want her to ask me for help. I want her to… I inwardly cringe at the damning thoughts, and veer my mind back to my original purpose. "You don't need to be so distressed. What Zachariah showed you was only a strand of the multiple different realities the universe contains. An alternate dimension, if you will. Although it is a possible future, it isn't necessarily the future of this world."

Alice flinches, and she recoils from me. Her expression is even more ashen.

 _Why?_

"You mean to say what I saw wasn't our future, but the future of a different world?"

I nod, trying to make sense of her horror.

"Then… everyone in that world is already… there's no way to change it? I can't prevent it?"

"Alice, there are innumerable facets to what you know to be the reality. In some of those worlds, Lucifer will indeed have won, and in others, he would have lost. You needn't concern yourself with the well-beings of the people in other dimensions. They're not of your world."

Alice is aghast, and I am muddled. I try to make her see reason. "You should take advantage of what you have learned. Despite Zachariah sending you there for his benefit, we can turn the situation in our favor." I can't read her. I don't know what she's thinking. Why is she still displaying such sorrow? She had been upset because she had seen me die. But _I_ am alive. Her friends are alive. This is her world, why is she so affected by the deaths of people from a reality that is beyond her control?

Alice falters, her balance swaying. She bites down at her teeth. I want to know why. I want to know what she's thinking.

I reach towards her, but Alice pulls away. I feel slighted. Don't distance yourself from me. Don't back away. I move to grab her hand again.

"Alice. Get a hold of yourself! You're letting your emotions get the better of you.

My warning strikes a chord, and Alice snaps out of it. Her eyes glistens, tinged with misery. I discern the look of self-loathing on her face, a feeling I am quite familiar with. She is nearing tears, and I don't want her to cry. Alice… don't make me any more helpless than I already am.

"I know you're hurt. But if you really want to save your friends, then you need to be stronger than this."

I wait for her reaction, and my words seem to have some effect. I start to see some of her old convictions returning. Her hand tightens around my own. The gleam in her eyes is back.

"Now, tell me the rest. What did you learn?"

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did writing it. The End episode always inspires so much emotion from the supernatural audiences. So much potential in the episode.

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!


	11. To Push Against a Hurricane

The motel room is dark, with only stray moonlight casting pearl glows over the tiled floors through the windows. The blinds are only half open, and neither you or Castiel have bothered to close it. A few rooms further down the walkway from yours, is the motel lobby where the bricked walls are overtaken by cement. Behind it, sits a lone clerk, manning the front desk in the moderate sized space. He snoozes soundly by his small portable TV radio. The rest of the lodging is vacant. He isn't expecting anyone at this hour, and he certainly isn't aware of the two individuals who have broken into one of his rooms by a most irregular means.

You try to distract yourself with the clerk's presence, latching onto the glimmer of his energy signature through the walls. The feeling of nausea and tension is beginning to crescendo. Your stomach twists in knots as you continue to answer the angel's questions one by one. The memories of the past few hours swim in your mind, murky and turbulent. You're not sure you're willing to recount the experiences so soon. Your right hand clutches the other, nails digging even deeper into your skin.

Castiel is solemnly pensive.

"And where was I, or the other angels?"

The words wrench forth a flood of searing images, and your blood runs cold.

 _…_ _The rubble… splatters on the walls… the red stain over your jeans… the warmth… his clear eyes… blue … unmoving…._

Your lungs lock, unable to take in or release air. The beating of your heart is so loud it's all you can hear. Darkness tinges the edges of your vision, and you can almost taste it. The madness is returning, crawling towards you from the back of your mind. You choke.

A voice calls out your name, asking you what's wrong. You can barely register where you are anymore. Your vision doubles, splitting between the images of the ravaged hallway and the man standing in front of you.

The blurry figure moves forward, silver light dancing off his ocean irises.

You want to close your eyes, shut down your brain, but you can't stop the memories pouring into the forefront of your mind.

 _~…Castiel lunges out from the turn of the hallway, firing rounds from his assault rifle. The group of demons at the front rattles as their bodies eat up the bullets. He grabs you roughly by the arm and wrenches you towards him…~_

Why did he have to find you?

 _~…Castiel rips off a piece of his shirt and starts winding the fabric around your injured thigh…~_

Why did he have to save you?

 _~…The barrel jerks upward, a silent shot bursts from its opening._

 _Your hand reaches out, but you're too late…~_

If only you weren't in that hallway, if only you weren't there…

 _~…The bullet whirls through the air, striking Castiel through the temple just as he's turning his head._

 _Blood splatters across your cheek, and the angel falls…~_

It's your fault.

All of it…

You feel a pressure on your shoulder, and you're pushed back and forth.

"Alice, you're not making any sense!" The voice startles you, shattering the hellish illusion.

The darkness evaporates, and you're once again back in the motel room. Your mind staggers.

Just what had happened?

Cold sweat chills your body. You could have sworn you were back in that same hallway...

Your vision clears, and Castiel's face sharpens into view. He's holding you by the curve of your shoulder. The concern in his gaze wrings a knife inside you, and you find yourself bristling from the contact. You're filled with guilt, and the feel of his touch scorches you.

Castiel tries to come closer, but you shake your head.

"…If I wasn't there… If he wasn't protecting me… he wouldn't have died! … _You_ wouldn't have died!" You pull your shaking hands to your face, they might as well be stained with blood.

Castiel grabs your wrist. And for a second, you're terrified. Is he going to reprimand you? Accost you? You'd deserve it. You killed him, after all...

Castiel pulls you towards him, and your breath is caught in your throat.

You fall against him, relenting to his strength. You feel him fold his arms around your back, and your head is gently tucked at the base of his neck.

But you don't understand... Why is he holding you like this?

He keeps you pressed against his chest, and his arms tighten ever so slightly at your waist. You can feel his breath beside your head, warm against your hair.

"I'm alive, Alice. I'm right here."

Your heart stutters, and you can no longer contain it. Your whole body trembles, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

Castiel is _comforting_ you.

You bite down as the tears escape your eyes, cascading down your cheeks in hot streams. You do your best to stifle the sobs into a silent whimper. You don't want to make a sound. You don't want the world to know you're crying. All this wallowing in self-pity, heaven knows you don't deserve it. You can't bear to face yourself. You hate how you are right now.

…

…But you can't move away. You don't want to. You continue to let yourself stay like this, supported by his hold.

Castiel's soft breathing brushes against your hair, lulling you into a calm. His warm scent of sunshine and pine hits you like strong wine, tranquilizing your turmoil.

And after a while, the pain starts to recede, and the twisting in your stomach lessens.

The kindness and respite he's offering you, the warmth from his body, all of them seep into you, kindling your very soul.

Your lungs unclench, and you're able to take a real breath. You let out a quivering shudder. The rampant storm in your mind has quelled.

You begin to remember… this, where you are now, is the reality. You're back in the present, and all your friends are alive. You haven't lost. You can change things. You won't make the same mistakes.

A flickering resolve ignites within you, and its flames grow and spread, rousing your mind back into clarity. You grit your teeth. Your hands draw against the beige fabric into tight bunches, you didn't even realize you're holding onto his coat.

Your breathing has calmed to steady beats, and they're beginning to seethe.

You're not going to lose. You won't let Lucifer win.

It takes a moment later for you to notice that you had spoken your thoughts out loud.

Castiel sighs into your hair, and the action is immediately sedating.

You notice the angel hasn't made any motions to let you go, and you wholly take advantage of it. It's much too comfortable inside his arms, and you find yourself wishing you could stay like this indefinitely.

"You don't need to be so distressed. What Zachariah showed you was only a strand of the multiple different realities the universe contains. An alternate dimension, if you will. Although it is a possible future, it isn't necessarily the future of this world."

His words douse you with their coldness.

You break from his hold, catching his confused expression. Is that true? What you saw and lived through was a _different_ reality?

The ground beneath your feet crumbles again.

"You mean to say what I saw wasn't our future, but the future of a different world?" You ask.

Castiel nods, studying your expression with curiosity. He doesn't understand your upset. Why doesn't he understand? The Castiel you met in that world is gone. The Sam and Dean of that world are gone. And now nothing you do can fix it? Your mistakes, your actions, all of it, can't be undone?

"Then… everyone in that world is already… there's no way to change it? I can't prevent it?" You want to beg him to tell you he's lying.

"Alice, there are innumerable facets to what you know to be the reality. In some of those worlds, Lucifer will indeed have won, and in others, he would have lost. You needn't concern yourself with the well-beings of the people in other dimensions. They're not of your world."

No. That's not what you want to hear. After everything, didn't Zachariah bring you and Dean back so you can change things? All you've done is make things worse.

"You should take advantage of what you have learned. Despite Zachariah sending you there for his benefit, we can turn the situation in our favor."

Turn it to our favor? Use the deaths of Castiel, Dean, and Sam from the other world? Use their bodies as stepping stones for your own survival. You can feel the bile rise within you. You start to back away.

Castiel reaches for you, and you flinch from him.

A twisting look flashes across his face, and you know you've hurt him with your reaction. His jaw sets, refusing to back down. His hand moves forward to snatches yours before you can dodge it again.

"Alice." He growls. "Get a hold of yourself! You're letting your emotions get the better of you."

You wince. The grip he has over your hand is painful, but it's his words that sting you. The angel is right, and no amount of grieving is going to mitigate your regrets. You turn to hide your face behind a curtain of your hair, casting your sullen gaze to the floor.

His hold over your hand softens. "I know you're hurt. But if you really want to save your friends, then you need to be stronger than this."

 _Stronger_ , you repeat to yourself.

Before Lucifer, before Sam and Dean, before Castiel… you've never really felt weakness or helplessness. But since meeting them, you've been constantly bombarded with events where your skills and abilities are simply inadequate. These past few months have proved just how unprepared, how foolish, and how _feeble_ you really are. You hate it, this incompetence, this futile struggle. You only just realize how much it has been chipping away at your soul.

Your nails scrape the inside of your palm.

… _I need to be stronger._

The ground starts to firm, and your will returns.

Your fingers wrap against Castiel's hand, finding their strength. You lift your eyes and turn back to the angel, your gaze holds steady.

The tension on his face relaxes.

"Now, tell me the rest. What did you learn?"

With your free hand, you pull at the end of your sleeve and brush it against your face to wipe the away the salty residue. "I should probably start back at the beginning." The suggestion brings forth a backbreaking weariness and your shoulders sag.

"Perhaps, it would be easier if you sat down." Castiel tugs at your hand, leading you towards the double bed and you ease yourself onto the blanketed edge. Castiel sits across from you in a mauve armchair. The seat is close enough that his knees brush against yours. He finally releases your hand, but his warmth still lingers.

You sigh, feeling heavy and losing focus. Shaking your head, you raise both hands to your cheeks in a swift slap.

Castiel is mildly surprised, but he's seen you behave like this before. He watches you expectantly, but with patience.

"I'm okay. Just needed to refresh myself. All right, where do I begin?" You decide to skip over your encounter with your statued-self. You convince yourself that you'll come back to it another day. Despite being in a much better mood, you're not sure you're ready to tackle the ill-fate of the other you.

"When I woke up in that world, I had to wander around until Zachariah finally showed himself. He told me it was the future. A while after August 7, 2014 to be more exact. Lucifer had won, and it was Sam's body he was possessing."

Castiel frowns. "I should have known. I suspected as much. If Dean is to be Michael's vessel, then it would only make sense that Sam would be Lucifer's."

Your brow puckers. "What I don't understand is how Lucifer got a hold of him. Angels need consent to take a vessel, and despite him being evil incarnate, he _is_ still an angel… right?"

Castiel nods, but there is a dark look on his face.

You know what he's thinking, and you rush to defend the honor of the younger Winchester. "Sam wouldn't betray us. Especially not after what happened with Lilith." When the angel's expression remains the same, you persist. "Lucifer must have used some underhanded tactic- probably threatened him with the lives of people he loved!"

"There's no point in speculating on something we may never know. What happened after?"

You watch him with a slight indignation. Castiel still doesn't trust Sam, even though it was the angels who manipulated him. You frown at the irony. "I was close to Kansas City, and when I got there, the entire area was fenced off, and pretty much abandoned. There was a hazard sign that said Croatoan Quarantine Zone. This demon virus had infected the world, wiping out the human population."

Castiel's eyes narrow.

"I drove to Bobby's house after that and met up with Dean. He found an old photograph of Bobby and…" You take a deep breath. "And the sign in the photo said Camp Chitaqua. So we went there next. And that's where we met Future-Dean. Oh, and Chuck was there too." The memory of him gives you a small smile.

Castiel angles his head. "Chuck? Shirley. The prophet."

You nod. "He and Future-Dean ran the refugee camp, saving who they could." Your frown returns, remembering the memory of your exchange with Future-Cass in your cabin. "I found out that one of the reasons we lost against Lucifer was because I, in fact, am not strong enough to re-seal Lucifer."

The reveal makes Castiel jerk upright.

You exhale bitterly. "Whatever Lyss, or _I_ told you, was only a half-truth. It was only with the power of angels that she was even able to seal him in the first place."

"And the angels didn't help the second time. They wanted Dean to say yes." Castiel's fist is clenched, barely shaking. His voice is just as bitter.

"But there might still be a way." You pause, feeling skeptical of your own words. You glance up to see the angel's awaiting gaze. "In that future, we were attempting one last attack on Lucifer. And Future-Dean had this gun called the Colt."

"And he says he could kill Lucifer with it?"

You look down at your hands. "He seemed pretty sure of himself. I don't know. I never got to see him use it. Zachariah brought me back in the middle of battle." And Lucifer still won in the end….

 _~…It's over." His cold gaze flashes. "You won't stop this. You can never stop this. Because, guess what?" He takes a menacing step forward and leans down next to your ear. "I've already won."…~_

You gnash your teeth. That's what the bastard meant. He _had_ already won, because he knew there is no way for you to change the past.

"It seems… the decisions of heaven may actually have worked in our favor this time." Castiel notices your muddled expression. "I understand you experienced something horrible, but now because of this experience we won't make the same mistakes. We'll no longer be charging blindly towards Lucifer. We have more information now, and a possible new weapon. We still have a chance, however, small."

The creases in your brow ease. Despite your strong doubts, they waver under Castiel's power of persuasion, and you begin to feel a fledgling of hope again. The sides of your lips start to curl upwards.

Castiel stands. He looks down at you with soft eyes. "You must be fatigued. Go to sleep. I will ward the room."

You _are_ tired, but you shake your head. "It's okay. I can do that myself. I know you've still got things to do." Talk to Dean and find the colt to name a few….

"Are you sure?" There's worry in his eyes.

You offer him a stronger smile, and reach over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm fine. Go."

Castiel surrenders a nod. His eyes remain on you a second more before he vanishes.

Your hand drops back to your lap having lost what it was holding. Turning your attention to the duffels, you pull yourself off the bed and trudge towards them. You unzip your bag and fumble around until you find your wallet. You doubt the angel had the room you're occupying reserved or paid for, so you might as well head towards the concierge. Last thing you need is for the maid to come to your room in a fit and have the police called. You strap on both bags over your shoulder for appearance sake and walk out the door in the direction of the lobby.

…

You wake up to the sound of banging on your door. You groan and turn in your bed, folding the pillow over your ears.

There's a shuffling sound, and you hear a rapping on the window instead. "Wake up, Alice! I can see you in there!"

You bolt up at the sound of Dean's booming voice. You veer towards the window and sure enough, the older Winchester is staring at you through the half-closed blinds with an eager grin and pointing towards the door. You leap out of bed and reach for the knob, throwing the door open. You beam when you see Dean and Sam standing at the threshold.

The taller Winchester gives you small smile. His hair has gotten longer. "Hey, Alice. Long time no see."

You jump to receive the man in a hug. "It's so good to see you again, Sam."

Sam chokes out a laugh, and pats you heartily on the back. You let go, passing him another grin before you tackle the other brother.

When you pull back, Dean glances at your hair. You know it must be a mess. "How long have you been sleeping? Keep this up and you'll turn into a sloth."

You chuckle, backing away to let the two boys in.

While Sam strides towards the table to pull out the one chair, Dean hops onto the armchair by your bed.

"I had a late night, besides…" You glance to the clock on the wall. The hour hand is pointing to the ten. "I only had four hours of sleep." You rub your groggy eyes, facing towards the sun to soak up a bit of energy before you close the door.

"Four should be plenty. Sam and I had ourselves an all-nighter, and look at how energetic we are."

You shoot a peeved look to the hunter. Dean is looking pretty at home with his hands folded behind his head. "People who usually sleep less than seven hours are thirty-eight percent more likely to gain weight, not to mention age faster."

Dean snorts. "You're calling me fat?" He lifts his shirt to reveal the ridges of his abdominal muscles. "This beautiful lean machine?"

Your eye twitches at the show of narcissism, although you are a bit glad the trip to the future hasn't put a damper on his mood.

"Uh, so how were you able to get away in the end? Cass came to us last night to tell us you were safe, but he didn't explain." Sam saves you the trouble and derails Dean's vanity. His eyes briefly meet his brother's. Dean is wondering the same thing.

"Right." You drop down to pick up your shirt from the floor next to your bed. You pull it over your head to cover your black tank top. "I'm still not sure how, but a friend of mine showed up and saved me. She blew past all of Zachariah's warding and blasted him out of the room like she owned the place."

Amazement stretches across the brothers' faces.

"Your friend?" Dean asks.

You nod, moving towards the washroom.

"I saved her from a group of vampires a few years back. I always thought she was human, now I'm not so sure." You keep the door open as you walk in front of the mirror, still in perfect view of both hunters. Your hair is disheveled, and there is still a hint of last night's distress in the form of puffiness around your eyes. You pull your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the bedhead. You didn't bring a comb, and the motel didn't offer any. "She didn't have time to explain it to me with the way she drove off after she left me with Cass." You turn open the facet to splash some water on your face. The cool liquid is refreshing on your skin. "She promised me she'll explain everything though." You grab the toothbrush and toothpaste you got out of your bag the night before and squeeze the tube over the bristles.

"So what about you guys?" You glance at Dean. "I separated from you after you and Future-Dean decided to go for a talk."

Dean rubs his jaw with an aggravated look on his face. "Yeah, nothing much happened after. By the time I woke up, Zachariah showed up to bring me back." He doesn't look at either you or Sam, and you believe there's more to this story.

You quickly finish brushing your teeth and move back to the bed. "I've been wanting to ask. The Colt. Future-Dean had it. Did you see it being used?"

Dean sighs. "Nah. It was all over before I saw anything." He grimaces at a memory. "But it's the only lead we got now. The guy seemed pretty sure it was _the_ weapon. Chased the thing down for five years."

You feel the hope inside you swell.

"Don't you think it's strange though?"

Everyone turns to Sam. There's a puzzled look on his face.

"I mean, if the colt is so dangerous, why didn't Lucifer just have it destroyed?"

Your heart sinks.

Dean shrugs. "It wasn't exactly in _his_ possession. The demons had them, and they kept moving it around. Besides, I don't think the hell spawns were all too happy under his rule."

Sam looks like he wants to say more, but holds his tongue. Dean is appearing perturbed, after only recently gaining the man's good graces, he isn't willing to foul his mood.

You frown. So the Colt really is the only hope you have right now, and after Sam's words, you only now realize just how slim the chances really are. "There's more I gotta tell you guys, and you're not gonna like it."

Both men harden their expressions in preparation.

"I'm not powerful enough to seal Lucifer. I never was."

The room is silent. No one breathes.

You examine their faces. Sam looks the most affected. Dean, on the other hand, seems to have expected the news.

"How do you know?" Sam almost whispers.

The knit in your brows deepen, and you take a hard breath. "Because I saw myself in the future." You notice Dean stiffen. "My body was turned to stone."

Dean watches you, his eyes asking you why you didn't tell him earlier.

You pass him a somber look, signaling at his own reticence.

Dean scowls and looks away.

"I don't understand." Sam presses. "You were turned to stone? How? Why?"

You thread a hand through your hair, finally finding yourself accepting the situation.

"Long story short, when Lyss first sealed Lucifer, she was only able to do so with the angels helping her. They didn't this time. And after he won and killed off most of the population, the angels left and Earth started to die. My future-self gave her soul to the planet to save it."

The face of your replica, her pained surrender replays in your mind's eye.

"She's been standing outside Kansas City as a statue for two years. It's why Zachariah really brought me back. He wants me to… _give back to the world_ once Lucifer and Michael have their fight." _The arrogant cur…_ you think.

"God, dammit." Dean curses under his breath.

You take a deep breath. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna do anything that stupid. Future-Dean and Future-Cass sufficiently chewed me out for that."

Sam casts his morose gaze to the floor in front of him. "So the Colt really is our last bet."

The room is grimly silent again.

You glance towards the two. "…So… where is the Colt anyways?"

Sam frowns, and Dean scratches the back of his head in irritation.

"Some thieving bitch stole it from us a while back. Apparently she gave it to Lilith, and now we've got no idea where it is."

"Cass is looking for it though." Sam adds. That, you know.

Dean slaps his hands on his knees and stands up. "Well, as selfish and manipulative as those feathered creeps may be, the trip to the future did give us a few pieces of important info." He looks at you then jerks his head towards the door. "C'mon, pack up your things. We're leaving."

You glance back and forth between the two brothers. Sam is standing as well. "Where are you planning on going? I thought you don't know where the Colt is."

"Well, sitting around here isn't gonna solve anything. So we might as well continue hunting. There's a chance we could come across something. Hurry up. We'll stop to get you some food on the way."

Sam reaches to grab the two duffle bags from the table. "We even found a new case. Some guy passed away in Illinois after aging more than 50 years in a single night."

"As interesting as that sounds, I have to decline." You smile at their startled expressions. "I still need to find my friend and talk to her. With the way she blew Zachariah away, she may even be able to help with all this." You catch the slight feeling of dejection on their faces, and you feel your heart warmed by their reactions. "I promise to meet you guys in a few days, but until then..." You walk towards Sam and take your duffle from him. You grab your wallet just under the zipper folds and take out one of your credit cards. Glancing up to Sam, you hold the plastic for him to take.

"You guys can use this. Try not to abuse it." You direct the latter comment more towards Dean. The man makes a face of protest.

"You sure you don't want us to come with you? Lucifer and his demons are still looking for you after all." Sam asks.

His concern makes you smile, but you shake your head. "I'll be fine. It's only a few days. I'll be careful of demons and any human informants."

"We can drive you to your friend, at least."

You shake your head. "No offense, but I'd much rather fly there. Spending all these weeks riding in a car can really lose its appeal."

Sam chuckles. "Guess I can't argue with that."

Dean pulls the door open and waits at the threshold. "C'mon then. We'll drive you to the airport. Not gonna take no for an answer."

You grin at the man. Now, that's an offer you're willing to accept.

* * *

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**

 **I apologize for the delay, but I've been taking night classes in French and it's completely burning me out. I can hardly keep my eyes open right now. Writing is still passion though, so I'll try to get as much as I can in during my free time on the weekends.**

 **God, it's snowing so much here in Quebec City, I wish it'd be over already!**


	12. To Cross the Bridge

When you reach the drop-off platform of the modest airport, you grab the latches of your duffle and slide it over your shoulder.

Dean turns and gives you a stern look.

"If you need anything, anything at all. You call us right away, okay?"

You grin and nod. "Right back at you."

"Be careful. We'll see you in a few days." Sam says as you push out of the car.

You slam the door shut and salute them from the window. "Thanks, I will. Happy hunting, guys!"

Dean sends you one last nod and Sam smiles at you as the Impala rolls away. You continue to wave until they disappear after a curve in the road. Readjusting the straps, you turn and pace towards the automatic sliding doors.

Once you've paid for your ticket and checked your baggage, you move to the waiting area. Taking a seat among the rows of cushioned benches, you pull out your cellphone to call Maggie. And just like last night, you're delivered straight to voicemail. Maggie's chipper voice replays over the speaker.

[Hello, Alice. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now. I'll be waiting for you in Chicago. My address is 1235 north lakeshore drive. See you soon!]

Following the beep, a voice asks you if you'd like to leave a message. You end the call before the machine can finish the question. You don't know what she could be doing, or why she isn't answering your calls. But, from her message, she does seem apt on keeping her promise to you.

It isn't long before you're alerted to board your flight. Even as the plane takes off, you can't stop thinking about Maggie. You travel back through your memories of her, from the instance of your first encounter to the night she pulled you from Zachariah's grasp.

How did she hide it? How had she been able to keep her true identity from you all this time?

When you were tracking the coven of vampires that took her, you did a background check on their victims, and Maggie, being the most recent captive, was one of them. Her life on record was mundane, ordinary. She was a normal girl, enrolled in art and fashion school. Her parents died in a car accident when she was in her teens, and she had no surviving family members. She had applied for emancipation and had been living alone ever since. The girl was healthy, no run-ins with members of authority or of the less tasteful affiliates of society.

Your fingers drum the armrest, and you barely acknowledged the flight attendant when she asked you if you wanted refreshments. You give the woman a distracted shake of your head, sending her attention to the next passenger.

Did Maggie even need you to save her from the vampires? She was certainly quite adept facing off against the angels. How did she even let herself get captured?

You remember her terrified expression on the night you first saw her. Underneath the fear, there was a spark of silent defiance.

You had stolen into the coven's hideout and were watching the vampires from the rafters above where the darkness shrouded you. The girl who later grew to be your friend was throwing a melange of taunts and excuses, trying to buy herself more time as her fingers worked desperately against the ropes that bound her wrists. You had jumped in to intervene when it looked like the vampires were no longer patient enough to humor her.

Your lips press into a thin line.

Had she been acting? The idea of Maggie orchestrating such an elaborate display of deceit sends a wave of apprehension through you. But why go through so much trouble?

You shake your head of your suspicions. She had saved your life after all. Whatever reasons she had for deceiving you, you believe her intentions are sincere. But who is Maggie, really? You've known her for years, and yet she has chosen now of all times to reveal herself to you.

You become increasingly restless, and your curiosity grows to an incessant itch that refuses to go away. After the landing, you nearly leap from your seat when the seat-belt sign turns off. You tear down the walkway, briefly stopping to give the attendants a curt nod before exiting. You make long hurried strides to the baggage claims. Once you find your duffle, you quickly rush to the pick-up area and hail the nearest cab. You give the man the address and offer to pay him double to drive you there as fast as legally possible. He is all too willing to oblige.

You arrive at your destination within twenty minutes. It's about five in the afternoon. From your side of the window, you can see the grand building meters from the car. Without breaking your gaze from the building's entrance, you pass the driver his payment and get out. You know you've at least tripled his fare. The man stutters out a gracious thanks, but you hardly hear him. There's a quiet rumble from the engine again notifying you of taxi's departure.

You stand at the curb of the sidewalk and turn your head up. The grand condominium steers skyward, bouncing the setting sunlight from its beige walls. Behind you, are the long stretches of a beach, where the lake spans so far and blue it resembles the ocean. You waste no time to enter the building.

Past the rotating doors, you find yourself in an impressive lobby. The pearl marble flooring shines from the fresh waxing and polish. There are multiple red couches framing square coffee tables in carefully placed quadrants. Along the walls are various paintings, flanked by multiple ceramic vases holding large Dracaenas. Their long sparkling leaves fan out with tiny droplets of water still tucked on the lower stems, displaying their recent care and grooming.

You make for the concierge to the left of the lobby. Like most upper-ended condominiums, there is a booth for the porter. This compartment, however, far more resembles a hotel check-in desk. Behind the sleek black partition, a middle aged man stands in his dark blue suit. He greets you with a tight smile when you approach, his gaze appraising.

You lay an arm on the desk, feeling like you should have something on hand to give him. "Hello. My name is Alice Grey. I'm looking for Maggie Velvet." Your jaw clamps around her last name. You always thought the name seemed rather odd, now you're near certain it's fake.

Recognition lights his eyes, and he immediately bows his head, almost in an apologetic manner. "Yes, Ms. Velvet has informed me of your arrival. If you take any one of these elevators to the top floor, someone will be there to lead you to her door."

You give him your thanks and head towards the elevators. Before you can reach for the buttons, there is a bell like sound, and a pair of metal doors open. You look back across your shoulder and the suited man smiles at you. You return the gesture and step in. Pressing the number 36 button, you wait as the doors close. As the elevator takes you to the top floor, you find your fingers kneading the straps of the duffle anxiously. You've visited Maggie's different residences before. She likes to move around a lot, but none of her places have ever been this fancy. Now that the play has ended, you suppose she no longer needs to keep up appearances.

You step out when the elevator doors open again and find yourself in a moderately lengthy hallway. There are four numbered doors on either side of the walls. On the other end of the hall is another elevator.

To your right, a man steps forward. He is also wearing a dark suit, but his thick head of chestnut hair and vibrant skin reveal his youth, likely to be in his early twenties. He gives a slight bow of his head.

"Miss Maggie Velvet is expecting you."

You detect a hint of a Spanish accent in his baritone voice as he gestures to the elevator at the end of the hall. He walks with you until you reach the steel entrance. Next to the doors, instead of the usual up and down buttons is a number pad. The man presses a series of eight digits, not bothering to hide the key code from you. You suspect the code is changed on a frequent basis.

There is another _ding_ , and the elevator doors slide back behind the walls.

The man bows his head again. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Grey." A light-hearted twinkle appears in his eyes, and you wonder if his relationship with Maggie is more than professional. You offer him a nod and step in. The metal panels slide shut and you wait for the elevator to rise again. This time, however, there are no buttons for you to push, and you're curious of just how far up you are. Only a few seconds pass before the mechanical lift stops and the doors open. You're presented with a second hall, much shorter and with only one set of black doors at the end. You approach the pristine entry.

Just as you're about to knock, a rune appears over the painted surface and glows flame orange. It fades almost immediately and the doors unlock, swinging inward. You stand at the threshold hesitantly. Reminding yourself that such discretion is needless, you step in.

A few meters in front of you is a large arching white sofa around a circular glass coffee table. To the left wall is a wide screen television framed with multiple shelves and cabinets embellished by deco and books. To the right is the kitchen, assembled by a full bar table and all the usual, albeit, extensive kitchen appliances. Opposing the entrance are large windows spanning the length of the wall. Through the glass, you see a long balcony, and next to the balcony doors is a set of stairs that leads to the second floor, curling around a row of chandeliers.

Your eyes continue to follow the railings until a familiar woman emerges from one of the rooms. She stands behind the balustrade as she watches you with warm excitement. She wears a dark violet silk robe and her hair is wrapped in a towel. You can still smell the scent of fresh shampoo and soap.

Maggie grins, leaning over the balustrade. "Glad to see you made it." She turns and makes her way down the stairs. She receives you in a quick hug, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You raise your eyebrows at her. "I didn't know you were so well-adjusted."

Maggie waves a hand dismissively and pulls you towards the sofa. You drop your duffle by your feet and sit down. The white cushions mold to your form, securing you gently with a slight bounce. At a second studying of your peeved expression, her face becomes demure. "I suppose with what you've seen from me, something like this," she gestures to the space around her with a flourish of her hand, "would come as a surprise."

You raise your brow pointedly at the understatement. After her display against Zachariah, you're not sure what to expect anymore.

"But, when you've been alive for thousands of years, wealth becomes second nature."

You study her with narrowed eyes. The woman's form is lithe, and now that she's dropped her façade, her mannerisms seem even more confident and leisurely. However, there is an undeniable trace of vulnerability at her revealing words.

"All right. Start talking. Who exactly are you?"

Maggie's lips pull into a tentative smile, and she examines you with lucid eyes. "First off, how much do you remember about your past? Your _real_ past, I mean."

You make an impatient noise in your throat, but Maggie cuts you off before you can voice your discontent.

"As promised, I **will** answer all your questions. Just let me ask my one."

You sigh, but decide to oblige. She did save your life after all. You press your tongue against the edges of your teeth, finding the words that approach you lips odd and foreign. You're so used to keeping Maggie in the dark, sugar-coating your stories to pacify the human that you thought she was. And yet, now you're about to expose your deepest secrets to her scrutiny. You can't help but feel uncomfortable in this role reversal where you're playing the part of the ignorant.

"I… remember almost all of my previous lives except for the first." You watch for her reaction as you divulge your story, wondering if any of what you're saying is making sense to her. "I know I'm a _Wikkōn_ , but I only have superficial glimpses of my first incarnation- Lyss was her name, and I am able to speak with her periodically. She tells me she's a part of my subconscious, my first memories personified."

You hold your breath and wait for Maggie's reaction. And after a brief silence, she nods her head.

"I suppose that makes things easier." She suddenly loses her smile, adopting a more serious visage. She turns her body towards you, slipping her right arm over the backrest and interlacing her fingers.

"Alice…" She takes a deep breath, as if preparing herself for the consequences of what she's about to say. Her eyes burrow into yours, and the intensity of her stare is unsettling. "I am also a _Wikkōn_. And we've been friends for much longer than you know."

Your eyes fly open, and you stare dumbfounded at the woman before you. Amidst the shock, a part of your mind stirs, evoking a memory.

 _~…she beseeched her brethren to return to her aid… they climbed to the very first mountain of fire and swore their oaths… Using the blade forged by Heaven's fire, each of the Wikkōn carved a symbol of their fealty into their soul, taking up the mantel of being Earth's protectors…~_

"You're one of the guardians…" Your voice is barely a whisper.

Maggie nods. "You asked for help, and as your friend, how could I not respond?" Her gaze grows a little sad. "I've been watching over you for many of your life times, protecting you."

You can feel Lyss rouse within your depths, and you mirror her sentiments. "Why…?" Conflicting emotions rise from the pit of your stomach. She's known, all these years, all these life times she's known. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why did you let me live as a human for so long? I could have done my job! I could have protected our world!"

Maggie shakes her head, her calm voice a contrast to your rising pitch. "That's exactly it, Alice. You're constantly trying to save everything. The world, the humans, the _Wikkōn_. You've given your life to it, bound your soul to this planet to protect it. And look at where it's gotten you."

You can't believe her words. Your friend, who is also a guardian, has deliberately left you in the dark all these _thousands_ of years, preventing you from accomplishing what you're meant to. You're so riddled with confusion and betrayal you can scarcely form words.

The woman's fingers press tightly against each other, unsure of how to placate your anger, but seems accepting of it at the same time. "I know you're going to disagree. You're probably boiling with rage right now. But I did what I did because I believed it was the best for you."

You swallow back the torrent of bitterness and decide to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Explain." You say through gritted teeth.

Maggie nods compliantly.

"After the demon Lilith destroyed your body and cursed your soul, the other guardians and I searched for you. But her curse was… _remarkably_ potent." She utters with a reluctant veneration. "It took us hundreds of years to find you, and when we did, I convinced the others to let you stay as you are, living a human life. You may think it's cruel, but to me, for the first time, I saw you live freely." She looks off to the side, her eyes shining with a sort of wistfulness. "There were no responsibilities hanging over your shoulders, no great disaster that required your sacrifice. I saw a chance for you to live happily. After everything you've done, you _owed_ yourself that." Her eyes harden with determination. "We all agreed that unless there was an absolute necessity, we would not wake you from your human life. I even had a god of fortune bless you so you would live without worry." She glances back to you with a resigning smile. "Of course, I wasn't able to keep you to a completely normal life. Even with all your memories gone, I should have known there would always be a part of you that will search for trouble. It's in your nature to intervene and aid after all. So I took it upon myself to guide you. I adopted the form of a human, and inserted myself into your lives, each time as a close friend. I made sure your adventures would go unscathed, and deterred you from anything too rigorous." Maggie lets out a light chuckle. "Keeping you human and alive was a lot more challenging than I originally thought. But still, in the end, I believe it was worth it." She stares into your eyes, and her sincerity startles you. "Tell me. Were you happy, Alice? All those life times?"

Your shoulders drop, and you look down, finding all your anger quelled. How can you be cross with her now, after all she's done for you? You feel ashamed of your earlier accusations, and you can sense your features morph apologetically with meekness.

"Yes. I was quite happy…" You pause, remembering. "My spell book. Was that you as well?"

Maggie's lips tug into an impish grin. "Guilty." She says with no ounce of guilt.

That makes sense. The book did appear in your apartment only a week after you met her. The language must be something only _Wikkōn_ can read. You give a wry smile, wondering of what other instances she could have affected your life. "Thank you, Maggie. For putting up with me all these years."

Your words make her beam, and you find the feelings of comradery rekindled. In fact, the bond between you seem stronger than ever.

Her eyes shine with reprieve, and you feel a stab of guilt for what you're about to say.

"But now that I remember, now that I know what I am, I can't stay idle anymore."

Maggie is reticent, her earlier elation dims to a soft prescience.

You peer at her tentatively. "I don't know if you're aware, but Lucifer is free again. And we- two of my hunter friends and I, are trying to stop him from turning this world into his personal tinder box." You take a hesitant breath. "Will you help us?"

Maggie is still for a moment, and her eyes become cool. A conflicting emotion flits across her face, making her sigh. "I am well aware of Lucifer's return. I'm sure every being on Earth felt it when he broke from his cage, whether they were aware of it or not." She pulls the towel off her head and discards it over the armrest. She then threads a hand through her semi-wet lavender hair. The ridges of her brow furrow, provoked by the cumbersome thoughts stirring in her mind. "Lucifer… approached me a few weeks ago."

You almost leap from your seat. "What?"

"He told me what he was going to do. I guess you can say he was trying to persuade me to his side." At your burning expression she quickly adds, "I said no, of course. I'm not a fool. We, _Wikkōn_ , know it was Lucifer who first incited the humans against us." Just as you're about to relax, her next words send you into a spiral of turbulence. "However, I have to decline your request as well."

You stare at her with disbelief. You know you feel guilty for requesting her help, especially after all she has already done for you, but you still presumed she would agree. She _is_ , ultimately, a guardian. She has the same mark of fealty carved somewhere on her body. So how can she say no?

"Why?" You narrow your eyes suspiciously. "What did Lucifer tell you he's going to do?"

"Angels tend to be very one-track minded. What else could Lucifer want but the destruction of humanity? However, he assured me he has no interest in hurting the planet…" She pauses, watching your exasperation with a knowing look. "And from the show of his history, I'm inclined to believe him."

You watch her with clear dismay. "So you'll do nothing? You're perfectly fine with everyone dying?"

Maggie's irises shine with a clarity and resolution that you can't comprehend.

"We do not owe the humans anything. Nor do we owe the angels anything. We've helped them for far too long and far too much. We may have even become their crutches, perpetuating their propensity to rely on others to solve their problems. It's time for humans and angels to settle their scores on their own."

You dither in your seat, mulling over her viable argument before you're able to match it with your own. "It's angels against humans, Maggie! Not to mention Lucifer being an archangel. How can you possibly expect the humans to defend themselves? No human in history has ever been able to fight against an angel, much less hurt one. Leaving them to _his_ discretion will be certain death for humanity!" You ball your fists at your knees. "You are a guardian too. We swore oaths to protect them."

There is a bemused flash in Maggie's eyes. "The oath _we_ swore is to protect the Earth, not the meager lives of every human. Death is part of life, not the end. You know this, Alice." When the look of dissatisfaction remains, she continues. "Besides, you shouldn't underestimate humans. We've made that mistake before-"

"I applaud your trust in their fortitude." You say through gritted teeth, your words lacing with sarcasm, "but I've seen it."

Maggie raises her jaw, her full attention successfully hooked. "What do you mean?"

Your frown deepens, and you let out a shaky breath. "The angels sent me to the future… where Lucifer had gotten what he wanted. The Earth was his." The memories flash across your vision, and your gaze drops to your hands.

Maggie narrows her eyes, waiting for you to continue.

You try to steady your voice, finding the sound hollow. "When they couldn't convince Michael's vessel to accept him, the angels gave up, and they left…" You feel a distinct shift in the air, and you glance towards Maggie. The woman has completely paled. "The planet began to die… and so I..." You swallow hard and look away again. "So the me in that future gave her soul back to Earth… and turned into stone…. I saw the body myself."

Heavy silence falls over the room. And it takes a moment longer before Maggie moves again. She sucks in a sharp breath and stands up.

"Never in a million years would I expect the angels to turn tail and leave." She starts to pace the room, seemingly forgetting your presence. "The world of angels and demons are intricately bound to Earth and must maintain a balance. The souls of every living being are in constant flow from one world to the other. If any one of the connections is severed, all three worlds would fall apart!" Her pacing stops when she rounds to the back of the couch. She throws a hand on the backrest, her manicured nails digging into the fabric. There is a scowl drawn on her lips. "Can they not see that without the support of souls, they won't survive for long either? Those fools!" She shuts her eyes, faltering. "No... I'm the fool." Her face momentarily twists with a sardonic smile. "If it were simple deaths, the human souls would have either passed on to heaven or hell or been reborn as another creature. The equilibrium would have _remained_."

You watch silently as she finally turns to you. "What are you trying to say?"

Maggie straightens her posture and crosses her arms. She gives you a lopsided grin. "I'm saying I'll help you. It looks like I won't have any choice in the matter."

The tension leaves your face, and you close your eyes in relief. However reluctant she may be, you've at least gained a powerful new ally you can trust. When you open your eyes again, Maggie is sitting back on the couch beside you with her legs crossed. She drums her fingers restlessly on her thigh whilst appearing lost in thought.

"We're looking for the Colt to kill Lucifer."

The woman slides her gaze to you absentmindedly. "What?"

You exhale through your nose. "Now that you're a part of this. I thought you should know what our current plan is. There's a gun out there called the Colt, one of its kind and powerful as hell. We're looking to find it, and to kill Lucifer with it."

Maggie frowns. "An archangel is a key pillar of power in heaven. Killing one of them will definitely provoke some costly consequences." Her lips press into a grim line. "But in the current state of things, it may be our only course of action."

You feel hope swell within you again. "So it'll work? The Colt really can kill an archangel?"

Maggie raises a brow. "You're not sure?" She pinches the bridge of her nose when you shake your head. "Honey, if you don't know, then I'm even more at a loss. I've never heard of this Colt before, and I have no idea if it's capable of killing angels. The only two things I've known to neutralize a celestial are their own blades or _God_. But anything is possible, I suppose."

Her words aren't reassuring.

Maggie stands up once again, having resolved in making some sort of decision. She sweeps a hand down her silk robe, pushing out the creases. "So while your human friends find the Colt that _may_ or _may not_ work, we should find the two other guardians. It's high time we had ourselves a reunion."

You bolt at the suggestion. You were wondering how many more guardians there are. "We can find them? You know where they are?"

"Of course! … I think." Maggie puts a finger to her chin. "It's been a while. I haven't seen them since the time we finally located you, and we've subsequently lost contact with each other." She ponders for a solution with pursed lips. "I wonder where we should even start to look…"

You watch her anxiously when something sparks in the back of your mind. You pat the pockets of your jeans. There is a slight thickness to one of the rear linings, and you dig your fingers into it. Latching onto the familiar piece of folded paper, you pull it out and unfurl the parchment. You stare at it in half denial, surprised you were able to bring an object of another dimension back with you. Your eyes trace over the scribbles and drawings the other you made, and you're momentarily lost in a feeling akin to hopelessness. You quickly shake your head of it and insert the paper into Maggie's line of vision.

Her eyes flicker to the sudden intrusion.

"This is something future-me wrote down. I don't know what it is, but I think it may be relevant."

Maggie takes the parchment from you and scans the contents. A glimmer of recognition crosses her gaze before they narrow into glaring slits. She closes her eyes, and the dark look disappears at once, provoking a forlorn curiosity in you. But before you can say anything, she speaks.

"These are some of the names our two other comrades have adopted in the past. You have mine listed on here too."

Your eyes fly to the page, imagining Maggie comporting herself as a deity. The idea is marginally blasphemous, but upon a reassessment of your thoughts, you reject the sentiment. Humans, after all, were the ones who gave her that name, not she. It's only natural for them to paint a _Wikkōn_ as divine when millenniums ago, much of human's potential and intelligence remained unrealized.

"During the darker times, when we were still _active_ within the human societies, we were regarded as something of gods. The Hittites called me Ishtar and the Fons called me Dahomey." Nostalgia colors her gaze, but she quickly breaks from it. "This may come in handy. If I can get a whiff of their energies from any of the shrines or statues built for them, I may be able to dig out their locations." She offers you a look of approval.

A sad smile traces your features. Once again you find yourself in debt to the individuals of that future, individuals who have already passed. Using the fruits of their labors is still a difficult pill to swallow, no matter how necessary. You surface from your thoughts when you notice Maggie studying you with a rather grim scrutiny.

"Alice…." Her lips are parted, but no sound comes for a while as she seems to be uncertain of the next few words. "Did something happen to you?"

You blink. "What do you mean?"

She eyes you again with the same sharp inquisition, scanning you from head to toe. You're starting to feel conscious of your appearance. It _has_ been two days since you showered.

A moment later, the dark look vanishes from her face. She shrugs, deciding that whatever she thought she saw must have been a lapse in perception. "Never mind. It's not important."

You shoot her a puzzled look. "Okay? So when can we start searching for them?"

" **I,"** she presses a hand over her chest for emphasis, "will start immediately. **You** , on the other hand, will be busy recuperating."

You frown. "Recuperating from what?"

Her other hand is then placed at her hip, a habit you now realize you have acquired from her. "From the looks of you, your body has already undergone the expected metamorphosis, and yet, you clearly haven't acquired your full memories or abilities. Not to mention you still talk about Lyss as if she's a separate entity. I know the _Wikkōn_ part of you awoke the moment Lucifer broke free. I felt it, and I'm sure the others felt it too. It's been weeks. Why is your mind still divided? They should have merged by now."

You inwardly pull back. You admit you've been trying to avoid this eventuality. You don't like the idea of letting Lyss become a part of you. You face away from Maggie with a grimace, causing her to slit her gaze at you.

"You don't want it…" She crosses her arms. Her expression is almost incredulous. "Why?"

When you're unable to answer, she lets out an exaggerated sigh. "You do realize if you don't complete this transformation, you'll never be able to access the true capabilities of a _Wikkōn_ \- which you'll most certainly need if you're planning on going against the Devil."

"I know." You rasp out. "But… I can't help it. I know Lyss is me… but she's also so different. If we… _combine_ … I'm afraid I won't be the same anymore…. I'm afraid she'll change me." Not to mention the strange and unnerving lenience you've felt from her whenever you were in the presence of an angel, with one sole exception. For whatever reason, this lenience of hers is only ever curbed by the celestial who has been helping you since Zachariah's betrayal. At the reminder, your feelings towards your ancient incarnation further sour.

Maggie quirks an eyebrow at you, and the regard is almost dismissive, but she reigns in the patronizing look with a glimmer of empathy in her eyes.

"It may not seem like it now, but you're still the same person. You haven't changed at all, despite your multiple amnesiac lives as an ignorant human. I would know." She allows a drop of humor to color her tone. "You and Lyss are the same. I assure you." Her gaze softens. "You should trust yourself more."

Her words barely ease your worries, perhaps rendering them to be petty would be more accurate. You grudgingly nod your head. You knew you would have to deal with this sooner or later. "All right. So how do I do this?"

Maggie presses a finger to her chin. "Normally, your memories would have been absorbed quite organically. But in your case, there's definitely some internal issues here that need to be addressed. Hmm…." Her face lights up, and you half expect a lightbulb to appear lit over her head. She grabs your hand and starts to lead you to the stairs. "I have the perfect place. What say we take a little trip to the mountains? An isolated little oasis away from human interference and everyday distractions may be the perfect antidote to your spiritual constipation."

Her metaphor makes you frown. "We're going to the mountains?" You ask her as you're towed to the second floor. "Do you have a helicopter on the roof or something?" You wouldn't be surprised if she did.

Maggie tosses her head back in a bell like laugh. "That's a definite possibility, isn't it? But no. I find human transportation much too slow, and quite adverse, especially for those of us who thrive on the planet's natural bounty."

You stare curiously into the back of her head. "So why are you taking me upstairs?"

She looks past her shoulder at you with giddy excitement. "I'm about to show you the _Wikkōn_ way of travel."

You allow yourself to be led down the balustrade and into what you think is the master bedroom. Your jaw nearly drops at the lavish comforts Maggie has given herself. She drags you across the plush carpet and opens the door to the bathroom. You throw her the most baffled glance when she gestures towards the grand bathtub. The porcelain tub is stationed at the center of the marble room filled to the brim with water.

"Stay here." She directs as she lets go of your hand. "I just need to change my clothes."

She disappears back into the bedroom while you do as you're told.

Glancing around her bathroom, you appraise the space. You can't help but notice the size, and you think it might almost be as big as your own bachelor apartment. The tiles have a sandy tint to it, reminding you of the beach across the building, and the rest of the walls and ceilings have a similar color scheme. To the left wall is the sink, built into a wide granite counter filled with an impressive number of candles. Above it is an ornate mirror with intricate frosted designs weaving around the border. To the far end of the room is the toilet and a few feet to the right of it is the shower. Overhead, a light shaped into what looks to be droplets hanging at various heights is positioned over the bathtub. The crystalized bulbs refract light across the polished tiles, scattering a spectrum of colors across the room.

When Maggie returns, she is wearing jeans and a halter top. You're mildly surprised to see her dressing so casually.

"All ready!" She chirps and starts towards the bathtub.

You cross your arms expectantly as you watch her step into the water, soaking her newly changed clothes. The confusion doesn't leave your face as Maggie then looks to you with an eager expression. She holds out a hand for you to take. You glance from her face to her open palm, then to the bathtub she's standing in. Throwing your shoulders up in a relenting shrug, you step forward and accept her hand. She tugs at you, and you step into the tub along with her, ankle boots and all.

Her eyes gleam with mischievous excitement. "Watch this."

And you do.

Maggie glances down at the water. There's a small grin playing on her lips. _"Nos ad fontem veritatis."_

Before you can decipher her words, you feel the hard surface beneath your feet disappear, and you fall through.

* * *

I apologize for the late upload. Currently in Ottawa visiting a friend, then ONWARD TO MONTREAL! Hopefully this chapter answered some questions without being too clichéd, and sorry for no Cass in this chapter. BUT PROMISE TO MAKE IT UP FOR THE NEXT ONE! Chapter 13 will be a pivotal one. ~winky face~

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**


	13. To Let Yourself Drown

You gasp out, barely managing to steal a quick breath as you're pulled into the water. You feel the warm liquid around you, and having shut your eyes in the fall, you slowly begin to open them again.

You blink tentatively, expecting the water to sting your eyes, but instead feel no distinct pressure.

You glance around. The space surrounding you is dark and endless, but when you turn your gaze upwards, you can catch slivers of light striking through the oddly idle current. You start to swim towards it, your legs kicking furiously against the endless pool.

When you break through the surface, you half expect yourself to be in Maggie's bathroom again. Not only are your assumptions wrong, but as you gaze upon the place of your arrival, all mental faculties screech to a halt.

Instead of the pristine seashell interior, you find yourself back outside, but nowhere near the city of Chicago.

You are now standing within what you believe is a spring. To your left is a waterfall, with the ledge spilling translucent streams just meters above. The fall of rapids creates a cascading layer of mist, throwing out illusions of rainbows. Surrounding the spring is woodland, and the scenery appears wild and untouched by human influences. Trees grow thick and lush around the banks, bowing towards the spring as if the branches desire to kiss the surface. The forest floor is covered with emerald moss, sprinkled with patches of thick grass. But your vision isn't completely filled with green. Tucked by the roots of various trees are smaller bushes of flowers, sprouting rich variations of colors and shapes.

You blink.

The view persists.

You then bring your hands to rub your eyes.

You're still here. You can't remember the last time you saw a place as beautiful as this, rendering you in complete awe.

A giggle sounds from behind you, and you only just remember Maggie's presence. You spin around and find her already standing on land, completely dry.

"It's quite breathtaking, isn't it?" She laughs again when you give a numb but vigorous nod of your head.

Her words bring you out of your reverie, and you start to trudge through the water towards her. Now that the initial amazement is waning, you start to feel the strange power humming from the surroundings. The air is thick with it.

"Can you sense it? The energy here." Maggie asks as she helps you out of the water.

You drag a hand down your face, flicking the wetness from them. "What is it? I've never felt anything like it." You glance around the setting. The energy isn't malicious, nor is it sedating or hypnotizing. You try to find a word to describe the sensation. Is it light? Pure? Invigorating? You frown at its elusiveness. The discomfort of your wet clothes is also distracting.

Maggie eyes you with amusement. "This is a faerie spring. It's one of the purest places on Earth, also one of the last places left untouched by humans. For those who enter, it has the ability to force them into honesty. If there are any unresolved feelings, buried emotions, or conflicting desires, this is the place to unravel them to find the truth." She sends her gaze towards the water. "This part of the mountain is shielded by an enchantment, and without a proper guide, it can't be found." After taking in a deep relishing breath, she turns back to you. "Here is where you'll confront your problems with Lyss. When you step into the water again, you won't be able to emerge until you're fully intact, so you better prepare yourself now."

You turn a nervous gaze to the waters. Despite its shimmering beauty, the silver spring now inspires a certain sense of looming dread in place of its earlier seduction. "And how long will it take?"

"As long as it takes for you to resolve your issues."

You bite the inside of your lips.

"While you stay here to mentally gather yourself, I'll be heading off to find our guardian friends. When you come out, there's a trail a few yards left of here that leads to my cottage." Maggie turns and points past the large oaks. "They'll be fresh clothes and any amenities you'll need there. Good luck." A small smile pulls at her lips when she sees the panic in your eyes.

"You'll be fine. Remember to trust yourself, Alice." She offers one last encouraging smile and departs.

You stare on after her retreating figure, half rooted to the ground and half ready to sprint after her. When she disappears from view, your fight or flight response fizzles out, and you hunch over in exaggerated defeat. Grumbling to yourself, you start to pull off your ankle boots, annoyed at the clingy wetness around your feet. You wiggle your toes when they're finally free of their soggy confines.

You turn towards the spring, narrowing your gaze at the water. Stomping to the edge, you take a deep breath, and ready yourself for the plunge. The sooner you get in and confront your demons, the sooner you can get back to Sam and Dean and Castiel.

You freeze.

Castiel.

All of your readied determination flies away, and you find your look of trepidation staring back at you. Your knees buckle, and you drop to the ground. You sigh at your own cowardly reflection. How is it that a single thought, just the slightest reminder of him, could crumble all your resolve? It terrifies and amazes you at the same time, that a lone being is capable of eliciting such a myriad of emotions from you. Excitement, joy, unease, fear, and desire. Particularly the latter two, with an intensity so immense they presently compete for your attention, flooding your senses into a haze. An inkling of you suspect the workings of the spring's mysterious powers, but the large remainder continues to fall prey to its influences. You take in a stuttering breath, trying to calm your nerves.

How long has it been? Mere hours passed since you spoke to him the previous night. And yet, you suddenly find a craving longing deep in your bones, and the ache to see him has never been more fervent. You grimace from the suffocating strain in your chest and you wonder if you should call him.

Your eyes skim the liquid mirror again, frowning at the dismay in your features. You don't want Castiel to see you like this, indecisive and scared of your own mind. But another part of you reels in defiance. After all, once you encompass Lyss into your consciousness, you might never be able to talk to him as _you_ again. You want to see him as yourself at least one last time.

The prospect of losing yourself further weakens you, and your spirits take a steep dive.

You pull your knees towards your chest and rest your chin on them, wrapping your arms around your legs. You let out a long exhale and close your eyes. You want to see him so, _so_ badly.

"Castiel…" You draw out in a miserable sigh.

…

"Alice."

You jolt up in surprise, your head snaps to the voice so violently one would expect an audible snap. You stare at the angel, who has, in every sense of the word, appeared _miraculously_ a few yards behind you.

You wonder if it's the spring playing tricks on you. And that your emotions of longing are so tenacious that they're inciting delusions.

But then a realization hits you over the head, sending you staggering. Did _you_ summon him? Accidently? Just by calling out his name? You're suddenly overtaken by the distinct desire to duck into the spring just to hide from him. Your throat gulps as you take in his rigid form, and he seems to return your gaze with equal scrutiny.

You turn your body meekly towards him, a docile smile trembling on your lips. "…Castiel?"

A curtain of mist rolls between you, and when it passes, your view of the angel is clearer than before. There's a dark, almost desperate, look in his eyes as he watches you, but it passes so quickly you're not sure you really saw it. His expression now holds a touch of confusion, and he narrows his gaze at the surrounding forestry.

"What is this place?"

You fumble for words. "It's a faerie spring…." Your fingers clasp together and knead nervously into one another. "Uh… I didn't mean to summon you here…" Your last words hook his attention, and he directs his piercing regard your way. Your voice dies in your throat at the severity of his gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You stare at him for a second longer, expecting some sort of clarification. When he remains coldly taciturn, you're forced to vocalize your lack of understanding. "Didn't tell you… what?"

Vehemence presses into his features, and he strides forward with an almost menacing air.

Your legs shift uncomfortably. Paranoia seizes you, and your eyes dart left and right for an escape route. When he finally halts, he's only a foot away from you, and his stare has you pinned to the ground. You peer up at him. The suspense has your mind in a whirl. Why does he seem so incensed? Is he perhaps mad because you called him here without reasonable cause? You rack your mind for an answer to his apparent wrath.

His gaze loses the previous ire, softening as he takes in your visible distress. He breathes out a sigh, and you're close enough that you can feel it brush your cheeks.

"The brothers told me what you've revealed to them, but deliberately kept from me." When there is still no sign of recognition in your eyes, his lips twitch into an irate scowl. "Why did you lie to me when you had in fact encountered your future self in that world? Not to mention that she had chosen to give her life away." The harshness of his stare further weighs into you, and the urgency of it promises dire consequences should your response be inadequate. He searches your face, and you can feel his ever stringent desire to tear through your mind and read your thoughts. When your silence persists, his gaze narrows in a glare, and you find his appearance most unforgiving. "Are you planning to do the same as she? Is that why you hid the truth from me?"

His accusations dislodge the lock on your throat, which only emerged due to his malevolent air!

Your mouth opens and closes with empty sounds before you finally find your voice. "O-of course not!" The adamancy of that rebuff urges your own umbrage, and you push back against his glare. "Do you honestly think I'd make the same mistakes after all that world's put me through?" Castiel reels back, perplexity filling his thoughts again. You take the chance to continue your berating. "And technically, I didn't lie. My future-self _wasn't_ there, not really. I only saw her stone body."

Castiel shoots you a grim look, clearly unsatisfied by that minor technicality. "Even if all you saw was her statue-ed remains, why did you withhold the information from me? Did you think I wouldn't find it pertinent?" His voice lowers into a growl. "You certainly thought it was relevant enough to share this with the brothers."

You pause, re-examining the angel's expression. Is that… jealousy you hear? His insistent glower commands an answer from you, and you purse your lips at what you would have to tell him. You send your grimace to the ground, cursing your own shortcomings.

"Alice." He warns you, reaching the end of his patience.

"I know!" You sputter out. "I was scared, all right? I was a coward! I still couldn't handle the idea that there was a future where I was gone! That I failed! I couldn't tell you! I didn't want to tell you!" Your hands are balled into fists at your side, and you refuse to lift your head and let him see your shame. "… I still don't want to tell you."

Silence falls, and you can feel him studying you.

"Alice."

The creases in your brow deepen, and you turn your visage further from view.

"Alice, look at me."

When you continue to refuse him, his hand shoots up and takes hold of your chin, forcibly guiding your gaze back to him. You stare at the angel in surprise, but your eyes waver under the force of his scrutiny.

"Are you speaking the truth?"

Your frown turns rueful. How does he still suspect you? After spilling your guts. You feel affronted. "Yes!" You snap.

After another penetrant search, the harshness in his gaze disappears. He releases hold of your face, now looking mildly apologetic. "I didn't mean to accuse you. But for some reason, having to hear this second hand from Sam and Dean…" He trails off, and his confusion is back. Castiel looks away, either unsure of what he's feeling or what he's trying to convey. He takes a solemn pause. "It simply felt as though you didn't trust me."

You give a soft snort, but his confession forces a wry smile out of you. "Ironic, since it was you who was having a hard time believing me just now."

Castiel dithers before his expression turns thoughtful. "You're right. Perhaps I was projecting." His gaze then captures you, and you can see your own reflection staring back at you. "But you are wrong about one thing."

He takes another step forward, closing what little space there is between you. You tilt your head further back to accompany the proximity, and you can feel your knees going weak again. "You're not a coward, Alice."

Whatever countenance you held before melts away, all your rawness and vulnerability leaving for the world to see.

If only that were true. But you've come to discover that there are now so many things you're afraid of. Things you're terrified of losing. One of which is standing right in front of you.

You can see his light, the force of his angelic presence glowing within. And since you've first been able to perceive his light, you've been able to see it waning with each hardship. What used to be a flaming torch is now but a faint candle of his embodiment. What will happen when that light is gone?

You don't want to know.

He is still here. Still tangible. Still warm.

Please. God. You don't want to lose him.

You take in a painful breath and step back. And then another step.

It has to be done.

Castiel frowns, but he doesn't stop you.

When you've gathered a wide enough berth to regain composure, you direct the conversation to something less personal. "You're probably wondering what I'm doing in this place."

This statement draws his attention back to the present, and he gives the spring another sweeping glance. There's a shadow of a crease between his brow. "Dean told me you were supposed to be in Chicago, conversing with your friend."

You nod, and you place a smile on your face. "Maggie. She told me she's an immortal too. A _guardian_."

Surprise lights his eyes.

"Isn't this great? She's said she's going to help us stop Lucifer. And she's currently off to find the other guardians."

What was originally relief flaring in his regard diminishes as he continues to listen. "That still doesn't explain why you're _here_."

Your smile falters, but before you can allow your mask to fail, you turn around to face the spring. "I'm here because it's time I become one with Lyss, and this spring will help me do exactly that. I'll get all my memories back, and then I'll finally be able to do something."

"Then why do you sound so unhappy?"

The words die in your throat. Any energy or pretend exuberance you've forced into your voice withers away. How did he see through you?

You hear the soft crushing of grass as he advances. It isn't long before Castiel stands next to you.

"You don't want to let her in, do you?" Though phrased like a question, the intonation begets a conclusion.

Your mask breaks, distorting your former placating smile into a twisting grimace. You turn away and wrap your arms about yourself, as though the action would shield you against his acuity.

Castiel isn't deterred. Instead, he seems more determined than ever to compel you into confession. He steps around you and boldly invades your line of vision. As he sidles an expectant glance your way, you veer your face from him in equal resolve.

"Why are you so reluctant to take her in?"

When you refuse to answer, he brings back his earlier commanding tone.

"Alice."

Before he can forcibly steal your attention again, you grant it without the need for coercion, sliding your visage just a fraction to allow him the corner of your vision. It's a shrewd sort of manner you're exhibiting, but your gaze is laced with genuine dissolution.

"When you first met Lyss, how did she seem to you?"

The question surprises Castiel. He retracts his gaze in rumination. "She seemed ancient. Ethereal. Like nothing I've ever encountered before, but her energy still held strong semblance to yours."

You turn your bitter gaze to the waters. "I find that hard to believe."

"Why? She's you."

You clench your teeth, and you steer a peeved glare towards the angel. You want to deny his claim, but you would only be denying the truth, however unaccepted it is. "Do you really think so? After speaking to her. You don't find her to be completely different from me?"

Castiel's brow puckers. "There were differences, of course."

You steer back to the spring, almost sulking. "Of course."

"But you're still fundamentally the same person."

You throw him a bewildered look. "Will you quit going back and forth?" You cast your glare to the ground. "I can feel her feelings, feelings that I don't agree with. I just don't understand why she continues to be so lenient to heaven, and why she disapproves of my decisions. We want different things, and our views clash! So if I merge with her… if her consciousness combines with my own… won't she change me? …I won't be myself anymore."

Understanding dawns on Castiel's face. "And that's why you don't want this merge. You're afraid she will change your personality."

Your shoulders fall, having finally spilled the metaphorical beans.

"Your counterpart, Lyss, explained to me that she was only a representation of a memory, and a fragment of your subconscious that's been buried and separated from you for a long time. It's natural for her to be different from you because you've lived different lives, and without the link between these two minds to share your memories and thus understanding of each other, you would, unsurprisingly, have misunderstandings. You don't agree with her because you haven't lived her life, nor she yours. If you ever want to understand her, you have to accept her into yourself."

You stare at him with a loss of words. You never expected such insight. His logic leaves you with little ammunition to back up the still obstinate petulance you feel. You jerk your glance away and launch a grumbling sigh. "If only I could master her powers without taking her."

Your puerile behavior draws a smile from him.

"I, for one, don't believe you would change even if you merge."

You examine his amused look, feeling both indignant and vacillant. "And what makes you so sure?"

"Because." He lowers his gaze to your eyelevel. "There is a key quality that remains constant between you and Lyss."

"And that would be?"

"Lyss carved a sigil of fealty with a blade of heaven into herself, binding her soul forever to Earth. She fought to protect her world and the humans, and I saw the same protective instinct from you when you went against Raphael. It's evident that you love this world, and the humans who live in it. You both fight to protect the things you love. These two elements should more than reveal just how fundamentally the same you really are."

A stirring ruptures within you, and you feel _her_ acceptance. All at once, your anxieties melt away, and you marvel at the angel by your side. Twice now, Castiel has comforted you, confronted you and enlightened you.

Your shoulders start to shake, and you let yourself break into a peel of laughter. You're giggling at your own foolishness. How childish you must have been. The sound coming from you is light, and the weightlessness you now feel is equal in likeness. When the laugh more or less settles, you turn back to Castiel with a grateful look. Your eyes brush over his features. The wonder of him now all but robs you blind.

The bemused glint is back in his gaze, and a look of curiosity dances across his face. "Just what did the two of you disagree upon?"

You blink, taken aback by the sudden question. You can feel the heat in your cheeks, but you're also captured by an arresting allowance of honesty. You give him a coy glance before jerking your face from his view. The motion is almost haughty. "I don't want to tell you."

You start to move away again, but a hand catches your arm.

When you look back to him, unrest stresses the edges of his brow. The angel is clearly confused, and your playful reticence only sets him on edge.

"I thought you trusted me."

You're undone by his earnest expression, and the imploring look from those cerulean irises collapses any guard you hold. _Damn eyes…_ You huff out in defeat, but your cheeks continue to burn furiously. As Castiel notices your complexion with a flash of curiosity, you have no doubt the redness has now spread to your ears.

"Alice-"

You gather up your courage and step back towards him. You glare up at his ocean eyes. "You really want to know? You won't take no for an answer?"

Castiel blinks. Taking your question as a sign of challenge, he squares his shoulders and presses back against your glare with a stern look of his own.

"Yes."

And so you answer him.

You close what little space there is between you, and draw your hands up around his neck.

The air dances with sporadic excitement.

You can feel his rigidity beneath your fingers. The angel has stopped moving completely, stopped breathing even.

You mute all uncertainties in your mind, and steal closer with the audacity of a gambling addict. You have come this far already, and with what is being held at stake, you might as well take the leap. It may very well be your heart you're wagering away.

The moment before your lips touch his, you close your eyes. At his contact, your senses flood from the feel of him, and your mind drowns in the sensation. You pull the angel closer, willing to deepen the kiss, willing to answer him more.

Castiel begins to ease into your embrace, and his hand loosens around your arm. You can feel him relenting, and just as you think he is about to lose the last of his stiffness, both hands shoot up to your face. The kiss transforms immediately, no longer gentle and restrained. Castiel holds you to him, pressing his lips against yours in raw hunger. You take in his desire with equal ardor, moving against the curve of his mouth to taste him. The angel is firm and soft and hard and warm with heat, and the almost savage way he kisses you makes you forgo all cognition. Your mind is a blur, accented with nothing but a bundle of sensitive, sensitive nerves. You trail your tongue against his lips, wanting entry into his mouth, wanting to taste him more.

You forget yourself, and apart of you reforms a smidgen of lucidity. Castiel is an angel, he is still new to this. You would have to stay your excitement.

But then he surprises you. Instead of pulling back, instead of finding hesitation, this slight new addition to the kiss seems to inflame his desire. He opens his mouth and presses his tongue against yours. How quickly the game reverses. Whatever experience and skill you hold he quickly overpowers with starved passion. With another graze of his mouth, you keen into him. If not for your arms around his neck and his hands on your face you would have fallen by now. There is a satisfied growl from him when you slump towards him, and one of his hands now trails down your spine, stopping to wrap firmly about your waist. You're crushed into him, and the action elicits a moan from you. You can still feel his tongue in your mouth, tasting you, exploring every crevice. If he doesn't stop soon, you think you might lose your mind...

No. No. No!

You have a point to prove… You have a mission you had to fulfill… didn't you? You had places to do… things to be… or something to that effect… You have to get a hold of yourself. As much as you would like to, you can't let this go on forever. You start to pull back.

Castiel tightens his hold on you, and a rumble of protest emits from his chest. His one hand still holds the side of your face and he steers you back towards him. He devours your mouth hungrily, setting a light bite on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back into your head, losing grip on reality again.

What little will you have left grapples against the near crippling torrent of desire. With a resolve worthy of a conqueror, you pull your hands down from his neck, one over his hand and the other against his chest. You push him away.

"Cass…." Your chiding tone has little effect with the breathlessness in your voice.

Another dissatisfied growl erupts from his lips, and the cloudy look in his eyes makes you smile. Castiel has not released his hold around your waist, and he stubbornly anchors you there, forcing you to arch your back to break from him.

After a few more breaths, your voice gains a steadier pitch. "Does that answer your question?"

The angel's gaze burn with hapless longing, trailing from your eyes back to your lips. He tries to lean in again. "My question…?"

A strange sort of pride stirs within you to know you have the ability to impair his mental faculties. Your smile grows. "About my disagreement with Lyss." Your eyes sparkle with mirth when you see the continued puzzlement on his features. "It's you, Cass."

Your last words seem to imbue some clarity in the man. He straightens, allowing you to do the same. He blinks, mentally shaking himself of the haze. His eyes study you for a minute, much of his old sobriety returning.

"Why am I the cause of your disagreement with Lyss?"

You give him a lopsided smile, and your hands slide down to the bend in his arms. He still isn't letting you go.

"Lyss… was concerned when she realized my feelings for you… were more than professional."

A glimmer appears in Castiel's eyes, and a brief shift passes through his features. Hesitation, curiosity, and something else. He makes a sound of surprise acknowledgement, but his eyes become sharp, signaling his doubt. "Why was she concerned?"

Your gaze softens. You search his face, wondering what kind of thoughts could be passing through his mind to provoke his guard again. "Lyss believes that there may come a day where your interests and my interests would be pitted against each other, that I might have to choose between you and my responsibility to this world. And I would have to choose my responsibilities in the end…. Which would cause… problems." Your eyes fall to his chest.

Castiel is silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I disagreed with her. I told her I won't be forced into my duties, that I would retain my freedom to make my own decisions. I told her that I would have both." Your throat grows parched as a specific memory sears across your brain.

 _~… Castiel's jaw clenches, and he tears his hurt gaze from yours._

 _"_ _You never should have kissed me."_

 _He walks away, the door slamming behind him…~_

"I was so sure… but now…" You bite down on quivering lips. Your eyes squeeze shut, trying to block the memory.

"But now you're not?" Castiel's affronted tone propels you to look up at him.

Your eyes glaze with remorse, and the need to explain yourself near tumbles from your mouth, but you hold back. A gush of confessions isn't what you need right now. You must choose your words. You swallow hard.

"Castiel. You have become more important to me than I could have ever imagined. So much so that it _terrifies_ me. If I never visited that world, I would have remained confident. But now that I've… experienced that…" Your fingers tighten over the folds of his sleeves, and your eyelids fall over your irises. You're barely able to contain your trembling. "If I lose you again… I…"

A sinister darkness rouses in the depths of your mind, piqued by the flashes of the memories you have been suppressing. You force the madness six feet under with all your might. Letting out a small shudder, you open your eyes again. You keep your vision to his chest, unable to look Castiel in the eyes.

What would he say to you now that you have laid yourself bare? Would he reject you? Would he agree with Lyss? You can feel your confidence fading, and when the angel's silence endures, you wish you can withdraw into yourself.

"Alice."

You breathe again when you finally hear his voice. There is a tender quality to it that you find oh so soothing.

Castiel brings his hand back to your chin, and tilts your face upwards.

Your gaze hesitantly trails to meet his, and when you see the liquid heat in his eyes, you can feel yourself drown in them.

"I can't promise you that I may never die, with the war we're fighting now. But I can promise you I will do my best to stay alive."

You break out a half sob half laugh. Before you can say another word, Castiel drops a kiss over your mouth once more. Despite the still ravenous need permeating from his touch, the kiss is gentle and affectionate. The space around your melts away as he holds you there, caressing your lips with his own. When he finally parts, he leaves you dizzy with relief and euphoria.

He cradles the back of your head as you fall against his shoulder. As he brushes his mouth over your temple, you close your eyes. He repetitively slides his hand down your hair to your back, tranquilizing you to a drowsing state. If only you could suspend reality to this moment.

You stir dazedly when he speaks again.

"I've always wondered... what the forbidden fruit would taste like to have Adam and Eve risk losing paradise to attain it."

You lean back to give him an inquiring look.

Castiel watches you with a small smile, and through the shine in his eyes, you feel as though you are all he sees.

"If this is what the taste is like, then I think I can understand."

You blush, hiding your embarrassment with a scoffing laugh. "Don't even joke about that." You regard him with mock reproach. "Lucifer was the one who tempted them to taste the fruit. I hardly want to equate our experience with theirs."

Castiel chuckles, and you find the sound of his laugh mesmerizing.

"If there is one thing I am grateful in lieu of all this…" He slides a hand across your cheek, pushing back your side bangs. His eyes grow tender, a soft yet smoldering flame that warms you from the inside. "It would be meeting you." A smirk forms at the edges of his lips, entertained by your beet red face. "Ironic as it may be, had Lucifer not started this war, we would not be together now."

"Great." You grumble sarcastically. "I'll be sure to thank him the next time I see him."

Castiel smiles and presses his lips over yours again, effectively silencing you.

You return the kiss all too readily and breathe in his scent of sunshine and warmth. However, the bliss soon ends, and the more pragmatic part of you takes hold. You grudgingly pull back. Exhaling, you tow your gaze to the spring.

"I should probably get this over with."

Castiel follows your disheartened gaze to the silver waters. "Do you have to step into the spring for the merge to work?"

You nod, not wanting to leave his arms.

He gazes down at your sulking expression. His lips twitch with amusement. "I can wait here for you, if you'd like."

You shake your head. "Thank you, but it's all right. I don't know how long this would take, and I know you have things you need to do."

You start to untangle yourself from his hold, and you can feel his equal reluctance in letting you go. Your hand slides across his forearm, and he catches your fingers before you withdraw. With your hand still in his, he follows you towards the spring.

You step into the water, casting ripples around your legs. The liquid is cool and warm at the same time, enveloping your skin like velvet.

You turn around, sending Castiel a reassuring grin as you take another step deeper into the pool. He stands at the edge of the banks and realizes he is unable to follow you. He lets go of your hand. A small chuckle escapes you when you see the hint of unease upon his face.

"I'm fine." You call out, if only to console him.

The angel dips his head in a nod, though not appearing too convinced.

Putting on a braver face, you turn around and tread further into the waters. When you reach the center of the pool, you feel a shift in the air. You stop, whirling back just to catch the alert in Castiel's eyes. You know he must feel the energy of the spring changing as well.

The current in the spring stills. Then all at once, the flow of the spring alters direction. The water ripples towards you, creating streams that build and spiral upwards. The translucent tides twirl above you, wrapping around your body until you are fully cocooned. You lock gazes with Castiel, offering one last smile before your view is completely obscured by the streams.

The liquid cocoon begins to glow, and you feel your consciousness fade. Then all at once, you are pulled under.

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 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**


	14. To Let Yourself Fall

**THANK YOU SO MUCH TO alliekatness AND MIA FOR THEIR KIND AND INVIGORATING REVIEWS! They warm my heart and fuel my determination in more ways than you can imagine! ~sniffles!~ My sincerest gratitudes! Now.. ON TO THE NEXT CHAPTER!**

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The first thing you notice in your consciousness is the sound of your breathing, immediately following the sound of nothing else. You slowly open your eyes, finding a familiar darkness surrounding you. Your feet touch solid ground, and although you are able to perceive yourself in perfect clarity, you cannot see anything else in the void.

A calm, almost meditative peace fills you, and you know you are once again within the confines of your mind.

You glance downward, and you notice a ripple has formed beneath the soles of your feet.

Something small shines from deep below, and you squint at it. The glowing light rises, and steadily, it breaks from the space beneath to hover in front of you. You wait patiently, examining the small orb as it continues to float in mid-air.

Slowly, the orb starts to shift. It expands and grows until your eyes can no longer endure its brightness. You shield your gaze with a hand, and when the light finally retreats, you bring your hand back down.

Standing in front of you in all her silver glory is Lyss herself. Her golden eyes are soft and gleaming, and her pearl colored hair falls in bellows around her form. Her skin is pale, glowing iridescent in the darkness.

You realize it has been quite some time since you last saw her fully formed. The sight of her is still a hair-raising experience, and a part of you dithers at the notion of having lived with such an other-worldly appearance. However, you are no longer awe-struck by her presence, having been acclimated to feeling her existence within your mind.

You study her face, finding it tentative. You wonder if you're holding a similar expression. "I guess this is it. It's about time I find out what you're really about."

Her eyes shine as they take in your resolve, and there is a slight hardening of her amber irises.

"I can still feel your reproach. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

You set your jaw. "I can sense the same discontent from you. But you're me, right? It's time we got past this." You square your shoulders. "Show me the part of my life I've been missing. Show me your true feelings."

The woman's gaze wavers, and she gives a ceding nod.

Lyss starts to glow. As she lifts a hand towards you, you find yourself doing the same. Then, as if watching a reflection, your hands touch in perfect synchronicity.

A link is created, sparking an explosion in your mind.

The darkness around you shatters.

You gasp out, your eyes flying open.

 _~…Your eyelids flutter, and you take in your first startling breaths._

 _The world of beauty and green shines around you, enveloping you with its radiance…~_

 _~…The small hand twitches over your lap. The human child sighs in her slumber while she inches closer towards your warmth. You smile to the girl's young mother as she glances up from her scrawled notes of herbal medicine…~_

People, places, sounds; all the memories Lyss ever had, ever lived through, rampage across your vision in a frenzy of spasmodic images.

 _~…You lift your head to the skies, watching the malevolent darkness swallow all light with a torn heart …~_

 _~… Inani sighs, her eyes sweeping softly over you. You can't help but feel the unwanted pity shining from her gaze. "You won't be able to help them, Lyss. They're already too far gone…"~_

 _~… A savage cry splits the sky._

 _It is too late._

 _You are too late._

 _Inani grasps your hand. She knows you want to go to them._

 _The Wikkōn you knew as Urya is already gone, consumed by the twisting madness spilling from his agony. Grisly moans slip between his lips._

 _Kaani lays flayed and carved within his arms, bleeding from lacerations made of human weapons…~_

Tears flow from your eyes.

 _~… The other Wikkōn look to you silently. Some hold faces of dismay; most are downcast with grief._

 _Inani stands at the back of the fey court, her gaze appraising. While her eyes shimmer with some sort of sentiment, you cannot read her thoughts._

 _Everyone is waiting for your next words._

 _You stare across the hall into the eyes of your brethren, your brothers and sisters, your family._

 _"_ _I choose to stay."_

 _A few start to shake their heads, and you square your shoulders._

 _"_ _Not because I am under duress from the humans or the angels, not because I cannot feel gratitude to the Seelie Court for housing us in our time of need, and certainly not because I resent your decisions. I am staying because_ I _believe there are things still worth saving… and that they_ can _be saved. This is my choice, and I am fully cogent of the consequences that will come with it. Please allow me the freedom to pursue my wishes…~_

 _~…You grit your teeth, gripping the flaming blade over your wrist. You close your eyes and utter your vow._

 _The blade hums as it receives your oath, transforming your heart's wish into a symbol, hovering ablaze at the silver tip. You slide the singeing edge over your flesh, gasping as it imprints the vow into your body, your bones, your soul…~_

Lyss' thoughts, her decisions, her emotions, her hopes and fears sear through you, melding into your soul, filling a void like a long lost puzzle piece. Her spirit courses through you, and you're brought to your knees from her experiences… _your_ experiences.

How have you kept this part of yourself separate for so long? How have you been able to choose to reject these memories?

Your heart aches as liquid warmth overruns your being. Sweet bitterness from long lost yearning. Yearning for cognizance, yearning for completeness.

Tears flow free and unrestrained down your cheeks. The anguish of your darker memories and the solace of your final merge coil and melt into one another, spiraling your senses into overwhelming rapture.

Your back arches, and you take in a deep breath.

The peak of your delirium crashes forth a discharge of sporadic energy, and the gush of power engulfs the meditative confines. The space around you morphs, unable to contain the violent and momentous life force.

A distinct ripping noise clamor into your consciousness before it is completely overtaken by the sound of a thrashing hurricane.

You sense yourself propelled upwards, as though you were swallowed into the belly of a gargantuas beast and are now being expelled.

The feel of water invades your awareness, pushing and slushing against your form. Your body continues to ascend further and further until you finally break the surface of the spring.

You throw your head back in desperate gasps, drinking in the air as if it is your first.

You have done it. You are whole once again.

Falling back into the waters, your tired mind tries to keep itself conscious. You start to drag your body towards the banks, fighting back the crippling heaviness of exhaustion. Each minute ripple seems to haul you back with the force of a tidal wave. After a final heave, you throw your torso over the grassy banks. Your chest palpitates with fatigue, and you find the ground so, so soft. Your vision begins to blur, and you don't even care that half of your body is still immersed in the spring. You can't fight sleep anymore. As your heavy lids fall to a close, you barely register the branches of the closest tree start to bow towards you.

XXX

~With Castiel~

A dying screech pierces the air, and the flash of white light fades.

Castiel takes his hand from the face of a 43-year-old truck driver, who had the misfortune of being possessed by a low class demon. The empty body sways then falls back in a lifeless heap.

Castiel scowls. This is the fifth demon he has questioned and subsequently exorcized in pursuit of the Colt, and so far, all the angel has gotten for his efforts are jeers and insults.

The Winchesters told him the woman who stole the Colt from them had given the weapon to Lilith. And now that the demoness has perished, the gun must still be floating around with one of her underlings.

The angel sends his narrowed gaze across the starry horizon. It will be dawn soon. He glances down at his hand, now clenched in a fist. If he continues his current approach, he knows he will completely deplete his reserves long before their confrontation with Lucifer. But what choice does he have? They need the Colt. It could be their only weapon against the fallen archangel.

Shoving his hand into his coat pocket, he continues his trek down the secluded street. Demons have been frequenting the surface world much more brazenly since Lucifer's resurgence, which favorably or not, makes locating demons much easier. Now if only making one talk was _as_ easy.

Castiel pauses as he turns the corner at the end of the road. The place feels familiar. He lifts his head to examine the buildings around him, and then realization dawns.

It seems so long ago, but it has only been half a year since he was last here. Standing across from him is a bricked three story building. As he gazes upon the top center window, he still remembers stationing behind its very frame, guarding the immortal as she packed her things.

This is Alice's apartment, even if she has not been there to use it in a while.

His gaze grows wistful, and he clenches his fist to quell the uprising of emotions.

Half a year.

Just half a year has passed since he arrived in the human realm, since he met Alice. The changes Castiel experienced in himself during such a short time are so momentous he doubts his old self would even be able to recognize him. He is scarcely able to recognize himself as he is. His expression turns grim. He doesn't know if these changes are positive or not, and it sends a wave of self-doubt through him. The only thing that anchors his constant unease is Alice's trust in him and his comradery with the brothers.

Among his mulling, something shifts in the corner of his gaze. His vision darts to the source.

Partly hidden in the shadows of a flanking alleyway is a young man wearing clothes that are not so different from what Sam and Dean would wear. Any other passerby would think the man is a college student out for a smoke, but Castiel knows different. He can see the man's true face, and the full demonic intentions leaking from his visage.

The two men lock eyes, being the only parties awake and about at this time.

Reviled at the presence of a demon so close to Alice's home, Castiel immediately materializes next to him. Before the demon could even understand what had happened, he is slammed across the coarse surface of the brick wall, tumbling further into the dark of the alleyway.

The demon splutters, trying to sit up. He bristles as he sees a pair of leather shoes enter his vision. His eyes snap up to find an icy blue gaze leering down at him. The demon curses his luck.

Castiel sends the hell's spawn a callous glare. He bends down and grabs the man by his denim collar, lifting him upwards as if he weighed nothing more than a bag of feathers.

"What are you doing here?"

Fear sparks in the demon's eyes. His mouth opens to an awkward and appeasing grin.

"Nothing! I swear! I was just looking for a place to rest!"

Castiel's glare intensifies, and he only presses the man deeper into the wall. A growing blemish appears at the man's throat.

"Lie to me one more time, and I'll show you what it feels like to burn."

The demon's hands shoot up in defense!

"All right! All right! I'm sorry! Lucifer has all of us keeping an eye out for the Winchesters, that's all. He's been having every demon working 24/7. I'm exhausted, and I was serious when I said I was just looking for a break! I'm just a grunt! I do what I'm told! I don't know anything else, I swear!"

Castiel narrows his eyes at the demon's squealing, but before he could utter another question, he senses another presence.

The demon's gaze flicker past Castiel to see the figures standing a few feet away.

The angel's insides tighten, and his lips press into a dismal line.

Castiel counts four of them. He is completely surrounded. He curses a blue streak in Enochian.

Dropping the petrified demon to a feeble lump on the ground, he turns around to face his new adversaries.

Standing at various heights and donning similar dark business suits are his angelic brothers and sister.

The one woman steps forward, asserting herself to be the leader of the group.

"Castiel. You've been cast from heaven, and your crimes are many. But if you tell us where the Winchesters are, you may be absolved of your sins yet."

Castiel glances down to the demon at his feet then to the angels around him. He calculates his chances.

Not good.

He grits his teeth. Even if he suddenly grabs the demon and flies away, they would only follow him. He passes from one visage to the next. Their cold and distant countenances reveal little of any familial bond there may be. He does not recognize any of these angels, and as he examines their stances at alert, they appear relatively green. Perhaps they could be reasoned with.

"If your leaders get their hands on the Winchesters, then all hell will consume this Earth. Whatever they've told you, their real goal is to destroy this world. This world that was created by our _Father._ Are you really prepared to let that happen?"

Castiel searches the faces of the four angels, trying to find any signs of doubt he may have sown.

Nothing. They all wear faces of steel.

The man to Castiel's left shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "Our leaders have not lied to us. We already _know_ all of this. This planet _should_ be destroyed and made anew… with that the humans have done to it."

Castiel frowns. Are there no other angels who share his sentiments? Theliel's face flashes across his memory, and his insides grow colder.

"I'd advise you to go. You won't be able to subdue me." It is a bluff, but only a half bluff.

The four angels exchange glances, returning with looks of clear disbelief. One of them even snorts.

"There's no use lying. We can see your waning grace. You're outnumbered four to one. You should just surrender and agree to our terms."

Another one advances, appearing to anticipate a fight with morbid excitement. "Whether you come willingly or not won't matter." He extends his right arm, materializing a silver blade into his hand. "I'm not against a little exercise."

Castiel scans the faces of the other angels: no signs of compromise. Their bodies tense with battle ready energy. His gut churns at what he might have to do. There is no convincing these angels. His right hand twitches, getting ready to summon his blade.

A brief moment of silent stand-off elapses.

With inhuman speed, Castiel grabs the demon and whips the body at two of the closest angels. They are taken by surprise, their blades flinging outward and piercing the demon's body in instinctive defense. The possessed young man howls out guttural cries before his throat quickly fills with blood. In the disarray, Castiel reappears behind the greenest looking recruit, thrusting his own blade into the man's heart. He gasps out, shock coloring his wide eyes. Castiel looks away to set his eyes on the angel beside him, still staring in a stupor at the sudden death of his comrade. Castiel steels himself.

There is no out running them. No holding back. This is the only way.

An explosion of white light bursts from his first victim. Using the blinding flash, he rounds the stunned angel with his blade readied.

All the other soldiers writhe back from the intense flash. The previously stunned seraph barely catches a glimpse of Castiel as he approaches. With squinting eyes, his arms shoot up to shield himself from the impending attack. The effort is futile as Castiel is far more versed in combat. His attack is coming from below, and the angel has just left his entire torso open.

The strike connects, the silver edge lodged deep within the sternum.

The flash has died down, and the man peers down his chest. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

Castiel's gaze is cold. When he feels the advances of the two other angels, having finally pushed the demon's body off, he jerks his blade free, just in time to parry two death blows. He grits his teeth. What he lacks in strength, he will have to make up for in cunning. He has been through far more battles, engaged with far more devious characters. He will use whatever he can, even if it means fighting dirty.

Castiel ducks down, but maneuvers his arm and blade so that they lock onto the weapons of his remaining two attackers. Unfamiliar with the technique, they're pulled forward in the momentum, losing their own footing. Castiel pivots and delves to the other side, producing his previous victim still in midst of convulsing in his place. He releases his lock on the two angels, and the three bodies collide.

The woman and man's eyes widen. Their comrade explodes with light.

Castiel snatches the opportunity. Both angels have left themselves completely vulnerable. The glint dances off his blood soaked blade, poised at a deadly edge, ready to slash the throats of both seraphs.

But the female reacts a second faster than expected. Realizing Castiel's plan, she pushes her comrade out of harm's way. But it is too late for her. The argent point carves across her throat, bearing deep into the skin and nearly severing the neck all together.

Castiel jumps back to regain his own balance. The two angels watch, one in grim silence, one in horrific disbelief.

The woman slumps to the floor. Just as her head hits the concrete, she screeches out, her angelic grace shattering from every pore of her body.

When all is silent and dark again, Castiel brings his leaden eyes over to the last contender.

He's tired. So tired.

He doesn't want to kill anymore. He doesn't want any more angel blood on his hands.

The young man peers over to Castiel, and what he perceives from his eyes makes his heart cringe. Castiel has never seen another angel regard him with such pure loathing.

"They were right about you… everything they said. You're a traitor. Murderer. You're no angel. You're a monster."

Castiel takes a step back.

Why can't they understand? He just wanted to protect this world. The humans deserve a chance to live.

His knuckles grow white under the shaking grip of his fingers. He glares at the angel, the angel who had scoffed at him only minutes ago, so sure that he and his comrades would win. Castiel's eyes turn pleading. "I'm just trying to protect what God created, what _our Father_ created. We were made to protect it, to protect _them_."

"And where is he now?" He screams back. "Who protects **us**?!" The man pushes against the wall, rolling back his shoulders. His voice is low with malice.

Castiel holds his ground. "We're soldiers. We fight to protect others, not for our own survival, not for our own self-interest."

The man throws back his head in a rancorous laugh. "What utter hypocrisy! You're willing to turn against the will of heaven, against your own family, willing to _kill_ your own brethren to satisfy this false belief of fulfilling God's wishes. He's gone, Castiel. What other evidence do we need to know that he no longer cares for any of his creations?! The only wishes you're fulfilling are your own!"

It isn't true.

Castiel's mouth becomes dry. "Leave. I don't want to fight you." His voice is grating and weak with fatigue.

The man's eyes flash. "Lucifer at least admits to going against God, to hating the humans. But you still hide behind this guise of a righteous warrior. It's repulsive! You're worse than the Devil, Castiel. God should have terminated your existence!"

Castiel's mouth twists into a visible grimace. His free hand plunges into the brick wall next to him. "Leave!"

The man's lips split into a most malignant smirk. "Right after I burn your life away!" He launches himself at Castiel, screaming with his weapon raised.

Castiel stands idle. His gaze is hidden under shadows.

A flash of silver, the clanging of a blade disarmed, and the sound of blood gurgling.

Castiel pulls his weapon out of the man's jaw, flinging a streak of red across the pavement.

The broken angel drops to his knees, then collapses to the ground.

He didn't even need to try.

The angel was still so young in comparison, and so blinded by rage. Castiel was able to knock the man's blade out of his hands without even looking.

The body beneath him shakes.

Castiel closes his eyes, slumping to the wall. He feels the rupture of angelic energy, its discharge, and then its dying fade.

Another angel is gone. Another angel is killed. Killed by him.

How many is it now? His own brothers and sisters?

Castiel gives out a stuttering gasp. There is a hollowness inside him, so dark and gnawing that it brings him to his knees. His hand grapples with the red bricks. He clenches his teeth against the crippling despair, the utter hopelessness. Is he to continue down this road? He can't. It just isn't possible. He'd rather die. He'd rather have Raphael burn him into oblivion again.

 _~… "Castiel. You have become more important to me than I could have ever imagined. So much so that it terrifies me. If I never visited that world, I would have remained confident. But now that I've… experienced that…" Her fingers tighten over the folds of his sleeves, and her eyelids fall heavy over her irises. "If I lose you again… I…"…~_

Alice…

He can remember her touch, her embrace, her warmth, her desperation at the thought of losing him.

He wants to see her. He needs to see her. Now.

Castiel immediately searches for her presence, trying to latch onto her energy with a fierce determination. When he finally pinpoints her location, he pauses.

Alice is no longer in the western continent. Her light is drifting somewhere in the southern pacific.

Castiel double-checks himself. Isn't she supposed to be traveling with Sam and Dean? How has she journeyed so far in just a few hours? Even if she hopped on a plane right after he left, she would still be hovering somewhere over the edge of the country.

Castiel pushes himself up, using the wall as support. He takes a step forward, leaning away from the several dead bodies by his feet.

His immediate instinct is to go to her. He needs to make sure Alice isn't being taken against her will.

The angel halts.

If it is Zachariah's doing, he wouldn't make the mistake of leaving her energy unmasked.

Unease twists in his stomach, and he treads out of the alleyway and down the streets in an attempt to calm himself. He thrusts one hand into his pocket for his phone while the other passes over the bloody stains on his coat, rendering the crimson inexistent a second later. Taking out the device, he thumbs Dean's number on the screen and holds the phone to his ear. The dial tone sounds only twice before the call is received.

Dean's curious voice crackles from the speaker.

"Cass? You got news on the Colt already?"

Castiel dithers, only just remembering his original objective and the demon he failed to get answers from. "No. Where are you right now?"

There is a vocal pause, signaling Dean's search for the exact address of his location. "We're at a rest stop diner on highway 70 half way to Indianapolis. It's called Rover's Diner-"

Castiel is there immediately. Landing outside under the giant signboard remarking the name and location of the diner for passing travelers. He spies the two brothers sitting by the grand window near the entrance and marches towards them.

"I think the exact address is-" Castiel hangs up before the hunter could finish, feeling mildly vindictive doing so, after all the times Dean had hung up on him before leaving a proper notice. When Castiel pushes open the front door, there is a ringing from the overhead bell, announcing his presence to everyone in the room, which is, quite frankly, not many. Other than the aforementioned hunters sitting with surprise on their features (with Dean's mildly affronted), there is only one other man chewing soundly at his sandwich in a booth.

A lanky looking teen appears from behind the cash counter to welcome the angel, but is ignored.

Castiel strides swiftly towards the two hunters.

As expected, Alice is not with them.

"Hey, Cass. What's up?" Sam asks with soft alarm when he sees Castiel's tense, well, tens _er_ form.

"Why isn't Alice with you? I thought you told me you were going on your next case together." It has been only hours since she was saved from Zachariah's grasp. She would be safer together with the brothers.

The angel ignores the growing smirk on the older Winchester's face, but is forced to give him attention when he speaks, slyness dripping from every word.

"Cass, _relax_. We _were_ gonna go together, but Alice had a change of plans."

Sam slides an inquiring look to his brother's suggestive visage before passing the angel a more studious one. "Yeah. Alice told us about the friend who saved her. She said she had to go meet her in Chicago. She should be there now."

Castiel narrows his gaze. But Alice _isn't_ in Chicago. He thinks back to the woman who had unexpectedly come to her rescue. If Alice is with her right now… he isn't sure if should feel relieved or weary. Alice seemed to trust her, but he knows almost nothing of the woman.

"Did she tell you anything else before she left?" Anything that would explain why she is in the middle of the pacific.

The brothers exchange unsure looks.

"Um…" Sam starts. "She told us about what she saw in the future. But I suppose she told you about that already."

Dean rubs the back of his neck in a low sigh. "Wish she told me earlier about meeting herself though… but I guess it doesn't really matter now." When he sees the astonishment in Castiel's eyes, he falters. Shifting glances to his brother, he surmises with a sinking discomfort that the immortal had, for some reason, left the angel out of the loop.

Oops.

"She what?"

The hunter had never heard him sound so murderous. He immediately raises both hands in defense of his own innocence. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger! I only just heard it from her this morning! If you have questions, just go to Chicago and ask her yourself!"

Castiel quickly reigns in his glare, realizing the brothers are faultless. But that doesn't curb his anger at the immortal's lie any less! She had told him she _never_ met her future self. The angel grinds his teeth. Did she trust him so little? "What else did she say? Tell me everything." He had to work to keep his voice level and even then it sounded like a bark.

Sam is quick to jump in on his brother's behalf. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation as to why she didn't tell you, but maybe you should ask her for the details yourself?"

Castiel pins the taller man with a seething glower, shutting him up. "I have every plan to have her explain why it is she missed such a detail. But for tactical purposes, tell me everything now." _Especially, if Alice decides to lie to him again._

Both men visibly gulp, spilling out every detail of their exchange with Alice before their departure. When they were finished, the angel is meagerly pacified. The brothers speculate that everything else must be in accordance to what Castiel already knows. The angel straightens, looking ready to depart.

"You're sure that's everything?"

Sam and Dean nod their heads vigorously.

"All right." Without another word, Castiel leaves.

When he is out the door, both hunters collectively let go of their breath.

"What the hell, Alice!" Dean hisses under his breath. "She shoulda warned us about tossing that grenade! Nothing's worse than a pissed off nerd angel." The man shakes himself of the harrowing tension.

Sam blows out a light breath, glancing out the window to the spot where their angelic friend vanished. "Maybe it was a miscommunication? Or maybe she just didn't think it was important enough to tell him?"

Dean passes him a skeptical look.

"Right." Sam nods. He didn't quite believe his own words either. "Well, in any case, I don't envy Alice's next meeting with Cass…"

Dean meets his brother with an affirming nod as both men proceed to offer a silent prayer for the unsuspecting immortal.

Sam clears his throat. "Let's finish our food and never speak of this again?"

"Amen, Sammy."

…

When Castiel arrives in the misty spring, his gaze finds the immortal immediately, burning as they trace over her form. However, seeing her, he is suddenly over-taken by a wave of longing. He watches her, her back curled over her legs as she sits by the water's bank.

His first instinct is to cross the space between them and scoop her up into his arms. He would hold her, touch her, tell her that he would do whatever she wanted, whatever she desired he would make true, so she'll never have to be afraid again. The desire to follow such thoughts is near unbearable, and the need is so strong it grates against his sanity.

Alice dips her head, a picture of vulnerability.

"Castiel…" she whispers out.

He can feel his world wrench upside down.

Her voice is listless. And in her weakest moment, she is thinking of him. This inconceivable creature, both lovely and daunting, powerful and weak. It fascinates and repulses him at the same time at how utterly entranced he was with her.

This is dangerous. She is dangerous.

Like fire, she is going to destroy everything about him, burn away all he believes is right and real until all there is left is her.

The change is immediate. His insides harden. His spirit hones to a dangerous edge, provoked by the treacherous implications of his thoughts.

After all, she still doesn't trust him. Her lack of faith clearly conveyed by her omission of such crucial details.

He gnashes his teeth, feeling an incomprehensible bitterness in his insides. He knows his powers are rapidly fading, and he knows she is concerned for his safety. But to exclude him simply because he was losing his angelic force! Did she really not believe in his abilities? He is a warrior of God! Not some burdensome weakling that needs constant protection! He will have her explain herself!

"Alice."

The sound comes out as a growl and it immediately snakes the immortal's attention.

Alice jumps up and whirls around, surprise etching into her features. Her eyes shine with a certain softness, and Castiel forgets himself. The look on her face is tinged with pleasant surprise, genuine and untainted. He suddenly finds himself unable to breathe.

What did he want to say to her? He was angry about something. He can't remember what.

She continues to stare back at him, but her expression changes. The previous wonder disappears from her gaze, replaced by perplexity and anxiety.

"… Castiel?"

The sound of his name rouses him from his stupor, and Castiel is cold at once. How was his mind altered so easily? It's then that he becomes aware of his surroundings. His eyes narrow into a frown, berating himself for being so careless.

The angel is standing among wildlife and flora, but there is an eerie power flowing in the backdrop. He is almost certain the strange energy is the culprit responsible for his muddled thoughts.

"What is this place?"

Castiel's eyes dart around the space, scanning for foreign dangers. Finding no immediate threat, they rest cautiously on the woman a few yards away.

Alice winces, overtly receptive to the hardened edge in his voice. "It's a faerie spring…" She grasps her hands, fingers pulling at one another. It is a telling habit she exhibits whenever she is nervous. "Uh… I didn't mean to summon you here…"

Castiel tenses. She thought she had called him here. Alice still isn't aware of his ability to pinpoint her location. What would have evoked guilt brought upon vindication instead. After all, did she not also harbour secrets from him? As he gazes upon her timid visage, he can only see culpability.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

A crease appears between her brows. "Didn't tell you… what?"

Anger swells within the angel. Is she planning on playing the guise of innocence to the end? Castiel's mouth draws into a scowl.

Very well.

If she persists on drawing out this lie, he will only have to wring the truth from her lips.

Castiel begins to advance, each step sounding with dark promises.

Alice recoils, shifting her weight back and forth like a trapped prey. There is no place for her to run. He would catch her if she tried. As he nears, her jittery air crescendos, and the moment he is within a hair's breath of her, all her trepidation locks upon her form. She stares up at him with wide eyes, her legs shackled under his gaze. Alice's visible distress shakes his will, and his umbrage wavers.

Her fear is warranted. She _should_ be scared of him. But something stops him, and as she continues to watch him, Castiel is unable to muster the rage he previously felt.

The angel cedes, blowing out a soft sigh. His eyes scan her features again, and despite the unease radiating from her, Alice is staring back without reserve. He can feel his own countenance softening.

"The brothers told me what you've revealed to them, but deliberately kept from me."

There is no flicker of awareness in her face, and her innocent façade stokes his wrath.

"Why did you lie to me when you had in fact encountered your future self in that world? Not to mention that she had chosen to give her life away." Castiel narrows his eyes into a glare, searching her face for a single hint of weakness. "Are you planning to do the same of she?" His insides curl with distaste. "Is that why you hid the truth from me?"

Something snaps in Alice's expression, and Castiel feels the shift in her emotions. He pauses.

She is… angry?

"Of course not!" Her brows press into a glare and throws his vehemence back at him with doubled intensity. "Do you honestly think I'd make the same mistakes after all that world's put me through?"

Castiel blinks, unprepared for her verbal attack.

Alice crosses her arms in defiance, appearing most indignant. "And technically, I didn't lie. My future-self _wasn't_ there… not really. I only saw her stone body."

Her retort trails off, and from her diminishing voice even she must realize how futile her argument seems. Castiel is firm once again.

"Even if all you saw was her statue-ed remains, why did you withhold the information from me? Did you think I wouldn't find it pertinent?"

Castiel seethes. He had to hear it from the Winchesters of all people, and they were humans. Did she really believe him to be less reliable than Sam and Dean? Just the thought is insulting. The angel's mood further sours. His voice lowers to an irate growl.

"You certainly thought it was relevant enough to share this with the brothers."

Alice is taken aback. Her eyes take on an inquisitive light before its brief spark is quickly dissolved under the angel's punishing glower.

The woman dithers, and she casts her grimacing visage to the ground. He's caught her. She has no more masks to wear. But he won't let her off so easily. He'll have her confess. He'll not let her hide her eyes from his.

"Alice."

"I know!" She sputters out. "I was scared, all right? I was a coward! I still couldn't handle the idea that there was a future where I was gone! That I failed! I couldn't tell you! I didn't want to tell you!" Her voice breaks under the turmoil of emotion, heavy with shame. "… I still don't want to tell you…"

Castiel studies the trembling woman in front of him. He would have never expected her feelings of self-inadequacy to be reason behind her secrecy. Is it true? Can he trust her words?

Alice anchors her gaze to her feet. Is she hiding her face from him because of genuine shame or from further deceit? He has to know.

"Alice." Castiel commands her attention, but she only shies further from his view.

"Alice, look at me."

When she remains rebellious, Castiel is in no mood to humor her any longer. He won't allow it. Reaching out, Castiel grasps her chin, drawing her gaze back to him in a rather dominating manner. He is able to breathe in her surprise. Her unguarded gaze captures his, and her scent intoxicates him. But he is the one in control now. His voice lowers to a husky whisper, though it resonates with a sharp edge, establishing his authority over hers.

"Are you speaking the truth?"

"Yes!" She snaps. He can almost taste her irritation.

Castiel searches her rueful gaze a final time for any falsities. Finding none, his suspicions melt away and he eases back. His hand drops from her face.

Castiel is mildly reproachful to his own actions, now realizing how antagonizing he must have appeared. He looks apologetic.

"I didn't mean to accuse you. But for some reason, having to hear this second hand from Sam and Dean…" He feels uncomfortable in divulging his thoughts, and he doesn't understand why he said what he said. It's as though something is loosening his lips at both ends. Aware of Alice's waiting stare, he quickly skips over his confusion. "It simply felt as though you didn't trust me."

Alice gives a soft snort, her expression a little vexed, but her lips twitch into a smile. "Ironic, since it was _you_ who was having a hard time believing _me_ just now."

She's right, of course, and Castiel falters again, looking even more shamefaced. "You're right. Perhaps I was projecting."

His apology is earnest, and as Alice peers back at him, all misgivings crumble away. He knows she has forgiven him. There is something about her expression, the softness in them. He could see his own reflection in her irises. He has completely captured her senses, and he wants to trap her with his presence even further.

"But…" He takes another step forward. What little distance there was between them disappears. "You are wrong about one thing." He can see the colors rise in her cheeks as she tilts her head up at him, and the mounting tension in her shoulders. This is not the first time he has elicited this kind of reaction from her, and he fully revels in its effect. "You're not a coward, Alice."

The remainder of her guard drops, and he could see something melt behind her eyes. Her lids flutter, and Castiel is so close he could count her lashes. But before he is able to discern her emotion, she suddenly takes a step back.

And then another.

His first instinct is to stop her, but he digs his fingers into his palm to stop himself.

Is he being too forward?

He searches his face. In the brief moment before she turns away, he thinks he sees a flicker of despair.

Why? What is she thinking? Why is he still unable to read her?

Alice makes a laughing sound, but to Castiel, it sounds like a sob.

"You're probably wondering what I'm doing in this place…"

Castiel is brought back to reality, and the space around him sharpens into focus. The eerie energy swimming in the backdrop provokes his attention. What _is_ she doing in this place?

"Dean told me you were supposed to be in Chicago, conversing with your friend."

With her back still turned to him, she dips her head. "Maggie. She told me she's an immortal too. A _guardian_."

Castiel does a double take. Did he hear that right? The woman he had seen on the night Alice disappeared, the woman who saved her. He never was able to feel her energy signature to ascertain what she was. So this Maggie character has been a _Wikkōn_ all this time. A surge of questions floods his mind. If this woman has been her friend, then why only reveal herself now? Why has she not helped before? His suspicions grow in an instant.

"Isn't this great? She's said she's going to help us stop Lucifer. And she's currently off to find the other guardians."

Castiel narrows his eyes. Her shoulders are heavy, and she still has not answered his previous question.

"Isn't this great? She said she's going to help us stop Lucifer. And she's currently off to find the other guardians."

What is this sentiment in her voice? Her words give the impression of relief but there is something broken in the sound.

"That still doesn't explain why you're _here._ "

He could see her faltering.

There is a slight rise in her shoulders as she takes a breath. "I'm here because it's time I become one with Lyss, and this spring will help me do exactly that. I'll get all my memories back, and then I'll finally be able to do something."

"Then why do you sound so unhappy?"

She does not reply, and Castiel knows his words stuck the mark.

He advances, taking his spot next to her. He has some inkling as to what is troubling her. "You don't want to let her in, do you?"

Her smiling mask breaks away immediately, revealing her true sentiments, wrought with distress. She turns away again in a last attempt to hide herself. Her efforts are only in vain. Castiel would never let her go so easily. He maneuvers within her vision again, and she turns in suite.

How long does she expect to play this game? She must realize how futile it is to resist him.

"Why are you so reluctant to take her in?" Her lips remain stubbornly sealed. Alice is acting like a child again.

So be it. He will have to force the truth out of her.

"Alice." Castiel lowers his tone, bearing down the full weight of his authority. He seems to be able to garner some reaction as Alice slides a veiled gaze to him from the corner of her eyes. He decides to wait, and after another moment, she finally speaks.

"When you first met Lyss, how did she seem to you?"

Castiel is caught off guard.

What relevance does this have?

But he decides to humor her, and he thinks back to their first meeting.

"She seemed ancient. Ethereal. Like nothing I've ever encountered before." He examines her expectant gaze. "But her energy still held strong semblance to yours."

Alice does not seem to appreciate his response, and she looks to the waters bitterly. "I find that hard to believe."

"Why? She's you." His remark earns him a glare.

"Do you really think so? After speaking to her. You don't find her to be completely different from me?"

Castiel frowns. "There were differences, of course."

"Of course." She repeats glumly.

He knows there has been some internal discord in the girl, but he never realized she has been this troubled over Lyss' existence. "But you're still fundamentally the same person."

"Will you quit going back and forth?" She huffs out.

He could feel her mounting irritation, her personal distress at the internal turmoil. Her clenched fists shake from the struggle to maintain emotional control.

"I can feel her feelings, feelings that I don't agree with. I just don't understand why she continues to be so lenient to heaven, and why she disapproves of my decisions. We want different things, and our views clash! So if I merge with her… if her consciousness combines with my own… won't she change me? … I won't be myself anymore."

Castiel's gaze softens. This is what has been worrying her all this time? "And that's why you don't want this merge. You're afraid she will change your personality."

The truth is finally out, and Alice is looking relieved of her burden from keeping it a secret.

Castiel surveys the immortal. It intrigues him how blind this usually insightful creature is about herself. If only she had searched for his counsel sooner, he would have long eased her headaches.

"Your counterpart, Lyss, explained to me that she was only a representation of a memory, and a fragment of your subconscious that's been buried and separated from you for a long time. It's natural for her to be different from you because you've lived different lives, and without the link between these two minds to share your memories and thus understanding of each other, you would unsurprisingly, have misunderstandings. You don't agree with her because you haven't lived her life, nor she yours. If you ever want to understand her, you have to accept her into yourself."

Alice stares wordlessly at the angel. Her eyes shine with wonder. It's needless to say she has never thought of things from such an angle.

Alice starts to look down in thought, but then vexation overtakes her and she jerks away in a grumbling sigh. "If only I could master her powers without taking her."

Castiel can't help but smile at the childishness. Had it been anyone else, he would have lost patience, but on her, it has a strangely endearing appeal.

"I, for one, don't believe you would change even if you merge."

"What makes you so sure?" She asks skeptically.

Castiel dips his head, matching the level of her gaze. "Because." His lips twitch at her creeping blush.

"There is a key quality that remains constant between you and Lyss."

"And what would that be?" There is a delicious tremor in her voice.

"Lyss carved a sigil of fealty with a blade of heaven into herself, binding her soul forever to Earth. She fought to protect her world and the humans, and I saw the same protective instinct from you when you went against Raphael. It's evident that you love this world, and the humans who live in it. You both fight to protect the things you love. These two elements should more than reveal just how fundamentally the same you really are."

A glimmer sparks in her eyes as understanding dawns. The darkness in her brows lift and all her insecurities is cast away by the angel's words. Alice looks down, and her shoulders begin to shake. Before Castiel can worry, she suddenly breaks out into a peel of giggling. She holds the back of her hand to her lips, trying to muffle the escaping laughter.

Castiel simply watches her.

Alice's voice is light, with genuine relief ringing from her sound. She must have carried this worry with her for a while now, and with all that she's been through recently, Castiel marvels at how much he has missed the sound of her laughter.

After a few calming breaths, Alice regards him gratefully.

Curiosity takes Castiel. "Just what did the two of you disagree upon?"

Her smile falters a bit at the question, and Castiel's curiosity only grows when he witnesses her burning cheeks. She shoots him a timid glance and turns her head away. "I don't want to tell you."

Castiel's frown is back at once. Isn't she tired of keeping secrets from him?

Alice begins to move away, but he catches her arm. His actions snake her attention, but her expression is playful. He, however, is no longer in the mood for games.

"I thought you trusted me."

Her gaze is velvet, and so soft he could lose himself in them, but he steels his heart.

"Alice-" His words falter when she boldly steps back to him. As she leans in with a determined glare, Castiel unconsciously inches back.

"You really won't take no for an answer?"

He blinks.

Is she mocking him? Why would she ask such a thing? He could feel his own determination rising to meet her challenge. If Alice is testing him, he will have to remind her just how formidable he is; an angel of God who openly defied the will of heaven. He narrows his eyes at her.

"Yes."

Her lips pull to a smile, and what comes next brings his mind to a halt. There is an impish glint in her eyes, and she abruptly draws closer. He can feel her intimacy, taste her scent of wildflower.

Is he hallucinating? Is this some cruel trick of the mind brought on by the strange powers of these woods? If it is, it would be too cruel, and all too enticing.

He cannot breathe, lest the slightest movement shatter the dream.

Alice pushes closer, circling her arms around his neck.

This isn't a hallucination. It is real, she is real. Her lips are supple and warm and sinfully sweet as she presses herself flush against his body.

Castiel reacts at once, he will not let such an opportunity go unexplored. He grabs Alice by her cheeks, he will never let her go. No matter how exquisite her gentle kisses are, it isn't enough, it will never be enough. His mouth moves roughly against hers, wanting to memorize their form, taste and marvel at every curve and line, he'll burn this feeling to memory.

Alice is weak to his touch, and loses herself to his control. Any conscious thought is incinerated from his mind, engulfed by a ravenous fire that only grows with every kiss, every caress.

God.

He could go insane from the feel of her. All of his will, his desire, hone to a single point, he wants her, _needs_ her, every fiber of her. He is to drown in her, devour her, chain her to his being until there is nothing left but him and her.

In a fit of delirious passion, he grazes her mouth in a most violent manner, growling as he does so.

Alice seems to take the aggression with appetite, as she only opens her mouth, further inviting his onslaught. But then she does something unexpected. Her fingers curl around his neck, pulling at the ends of his hair, and he feels the touch of her velvet tongue, trailing delicious fire over the seams of his lips. This action, however small, sends the angel completely over the edge. He snatches her coy invitation with the desperation of a starving man, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue against hers.

His touch breaks her, and he feels her weight fall against him.

A deep growl rumbles from his chest, wholly satisfied at her surrender. Still, it isn't enough. He still wants more… just more. As he continues to taste her, graze her with near bruising kisses, a hand starts to trail downwards from her face. He feels the docile contours of her neck, the slight bend in her collar bones, her small but firm shoulders, and the feminine curve of her back. His fingers trace her form, crushing her roughly to him when they find the supple waist that seems to fit so perfectly in his arms.

The force elicits a moan from her lips, and he drinks it in just as hungrily.

Castiel has never known such earthly pleasures, feelings and intensities that could scorch away all reason. Is this what humans feel? This intimacy, this _indulgence_ in every sense of the word. This is why so many angels chose to fall. As he stands there with Alice in his arms, kissing her, tasting every crevice of her mouth, he would never doubt their judgement again.

But then something stirs within Alice, and she begins to pull away.

No!

It's not enough. He hasn't had enough.

Castiel pulls Alice back against him, rumbling his refusal. He could feel her smile against his lips, but she only retreats further. He still has one hand by her cheek and he forcibly steers her back to him. Caught unaware, Castiel takes the opportunity and sets his mouth even harder against hers, subjugating her to light bites at her lower lip. The effect is immediate as she begins to relent again.

She's his. He's won.

Just as his senses float back to bliss, she suddenly grabs his hands and pushes him away.

His paradise evaporates.

"Cass…" Alice chides in a breathless tone, and her voice stokes his desires again.

Castiel scowls, tugging impatiently at her waist, forcing her to arch her back just to gain some distance, distance he doesn't want, distance he is painfully aware of right now.

She continues to remain stubbornly separate from him. "Does that answer your question?" Her voice is steadier now, and it draws his attention to her lips. They're red and warm and still soft and wholly delectable.

He starts to lean in again. "My question…"

Her lips pull to a smile. "About my disagreement with Lyss."

Why is she still so far? Why is he not kissing her yet? …Did she say something about a disagreement?

"It's you, Cass."

Castiel stills, and he can feel the fog lifting from his mind. He begins to straighten, thus allowing Alice to do the same. "Why am I the cause of your disagreement with Lyss?"

She gives him a wry smile. Her hands slide down his arms to the bend in his elbows. Although the touch is meant to comfort, it evokes something else entirely.

Alice lowers her gaze demurely. "Lyss… was concerned when she realized my feelings for you… were more than _professional_."

Castiel's eyes widen. Can it be true? Does she truly feel that way about him? Can he believe her?

He stops himself. If this proves to be false, if this is another one of her games… He swallows back the rising bitterness. Shaking himself of the thought, he decides to focus on something else.

"Why was she concerned?"

Her eyes hold a warm glow as she gazes at him, and Castiel can feel his insides melt.

"Lyss believes that there may come a day where your interests and my interests would be pitted against each other, that I might have to choose between you and my responsibilities to the world." Her gaze trails to his chest. "And I would have to choose my responsibilities in the end… Which would cause… problems."

Castiel sobers. So Lyss has never approved of him, and being a part of her, that would mean a part of Alice disapproves of him. The realization is harrowing.

"I disagreed with her. I told her I won't be forced into my duties, that I would retain my freedom to make my own decisions. I told her that I would have both." A flicker of pain passes her features, and her eyes glaze with memory. "I was so sure… but now…" She bites down at her lips, and her eyes squeeze shut.

Alarm shoots through Castiel. Is the paradise he felt just moments ago crashing around him already? "But now you're not?"

Her eyes smolder with remorse. She swallows hard.

"Castiel. You have become more important to me than I could have ever imagined. So much so that it _terrifies_ me. If I never visited that world, I would have remained confident. But now that I've… experienced that…"

He watches with bated breath as her fingers grip desperately at his sleeves.

Her eyes close as if in hopeless surrender.

"If I lose you again… I…"

Warmth fills Castiel.

Despite her fear, her despair, the angel is in unbelievable bliss. He _couldn't_ believe it, but the truth is in plain sight right in front of him. It isn't a dream, or some malicious conjuring.

Alice, a most singular being, feels for him.

It is done.

With her last confession, Castiel has lost.

He could sense it too. He is irrevocably hers.

Alice lets out a quivering shudder, and her eyes reopen. She gazes at him timidly, as if unsure of his response.

The creature is completely unaware of the control she has over him.

"Alice."

Relief washes over her features.

Castiel gently takes her chin in his hand, lifting her face upwards. She searches his visage, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

"I can't promise you that I may never die, with the war we're fighting now. But I can promise you I will do my best to stay alive."

Alice lets out a sob like laugh, and Castiel immediately silences her with a kiss. Just as eager to continue their earlier embrace, Alice melts in his hold. He can taste her respite, and with his own added heat, they meld together into dizzying rapture.

When Alice finally breaks away for air, Castiel traces his lips over her brow and then her temple. Alice's head falls over his shoulder, and she makes a most contented sound from the way he slides a hand down her back.

His thoughts drift absentmindedly as he starts playing with a strand of her hair. Alice had kept it cut to a mid back length from all the times it has regrown. "I've always wondered... what the forbidden fruit would taste like to have Adam and Eve risk losing paradise to attain it."

Alice leans back with a curious look.

Castiel smiles, his eyes caressing her face. "If this is what the taste is like, then I think I can understand."

Alice flushes, and she scowls to hide her embarrassment. "Lucifer was the one who tempted them to taste the fruit. I hardly want to equate our experience with theirs."

Castiel laughs, surprising himself. He can't remember the last time he laughed. Trailing a hand across Alice's cheek, he brushes back a strand of hair. "If there is one thing I am grateful for in lieu of all this…" He sees the immediate crimson coloring her cheeks following the path of his fingers, and he marvels at the phenomenon with adoring interest. "It would be meeting you."

At his words, the immortal girl bites down at her lips, trying to contain her smile.

There is a certain joy to be felt in teasing her like this, and he can't seem to stop himself. His mouth pulls into a smirk. "Ironic as it may be, had Lucifer not started this war, we would not be together now."

"Great." Alice grumbles, still beet red. "I'll be sure to thank him the next time I see him."

Castiel smiles again. She is obstinate to the end. Before she could mutter anything else to save face, he drops a kiss over her lips. Alice responds all too willingly, and he grins against her mouth. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls herself closer. Castiel instinctively crushes her to him, accommodating her wish. A blissful moan escapes her lips as he continues to move his mouth against hers. Although the caress is no longer wrought with aggression, the need still burns just as strong.

Minutes tick by like seconds, and all too soon, Alice pulls back once more.

This time, Castiel is able to reign himself in with more success. He follows her despondent gaze to the spring.

A reluctant sigh slips from her lips… Her soft, red, lips…

"I should probably get this over with."

Castiel blinks, regaining the bearings in his mind. "Do you have to step into the spring for the merge to work?"

Alice nods, but she makes no movement to leave. Her fingers tighten around the nape of his neck, making him smirk.

"I can wait here for you, if you'd like." He could see the urge to say yes to him, but she holds herself back.

With a pout, she shakes her head. "Thank you, but it's all right. I don't know how long this would take, and I know you have things you need to do." Her chest lifts as she takes a deep breath and steps back.

The smirk drops from his mouth. He does not want to let her go, but the more disciplined part of him wills him to obey. He can still feel his body radiate from the warmth of her.

Alice unwraps herself from him, her arm draping down his own as she moves further away. Before she could completely escape him, he catches her fingers. The action elicits a smile from her, and she leads him slowly towards the banks.

He watches her returning smile, speckled with anxiety and doubt.

She sets a foot into the water, then the other. His own apprehension begins to bubble.

How safe is this endeavor? What if something goes wrong?

She treads further away, and his hand tightens over hers. Alice glances back to him, and seeing his face she offers him a reassuring grin. She would not be able to go further unless Castiel lets go.

Realizing this, his eyes flicker to her hand still locked in his. He unfurls his fingers, and her hand slips away.

Alice chuckles. Its light sound draws his attention.

"I'm fine."

She must have noticed his unease, and Castiel only nods in response.

She replies with a wry smile, knowing she doesn't have him convinced, but unable to pacify him otherwise.

Turning back around, Alice takes another breath and pushes deeper into the water. The ripples have rose to her chest. The moment she reaches the center of the spring, the air shifts.

Castiel bristles, searching her surroundings for threats. He could draw her back in a second if need be, and so he prepares himself.

The water in the spring freezes to a standstill, looking eerily mirror like. Then, all at once, the current reverses, and the ripples flow backwards to the center, to Alice.

Castiel trails the edge of the bank, trying to find closer ground.

Despite the strange happenings around her, Alice only watches the event unfold with calm interest.

The waters around her start to dance, pulling up translucent streams arching higher and higher around her. Watery ribbons spin and twirl around Alice, wrapping her in a flowing cocoon. Before she is completely covered, she looks up to capture his gaze. He sees the determination in her eyes and the promise to meet again.

A final stream winds around her, and Alice is completely enveloped. There is a shimmering glow, and she fades from view. All becomes calm once more, and the spring trickles on again as if the phenomenon never happened.

Castiel continues to stare into the space where Alice occupied.

He is torn.

How could he feel so happy and peaceful?

He had killed four angels just hours earlier. He had felt their anger, their hate, and his grief. Yet, all those horrible sentiments now seem so far away, so feeble before the power of Alice's existence.

And then he feels it, the lull of inevitable damnation. Like the splitting of the earth, he is swallowed by temptation. He has fallen prey to it.

At a single word, he would give up worlds for her. He would kill for her. He would destroy for her.

And if something in the coming days would separate her from him, heaven have mercy on the obstacle.

There is a certain madness to this emotion, and Castiel knows it. But it is already too late.

If this is a battle of wills, he will see to it that he wins.

* * *

 **I apologize. This chapter was posted 4 days late. D= I was super distracted and took forever editing it... though I am sure there are still a few errors lurking around here and there. *-* I intend to hunt each and every one down.**

 **As always, PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW!**


	15. To Each Our Own

It had been more than five days since Alice last disappeared into the spring. It wasn't easy for the angel to wait, and though he remained determined to stand by the waters until her return, his obligations to the Winchesters and to his continuous pursuit of God prevented him otherwise. Whenever Castiel did find the time, he would travel back to the hidden island in the Pacific, standing hours on end by the enchanted pool in hopes that Alice would soon appear. Every hour passed grated on his patience and roused his fears.

Would it not have been for the strength of Alice's energy that since flooded the spring after her depart, and the sensation of it tranquilizing his senses, the angel would certainly have turned mad with unease.

What if something had gone wrong? What if it had all been a trap?

Castiel had tried to search for the woman named Maggie she so trusted, but even after scouring every island and landmass west of the Americas, he was still unable to locate her.

xx

With anxiety riddling his form, Castiel materializes back by Alice's spring. This will be the sixth time he has visited.

Angels have no need to breathe, but as Castiel prepares himself for yet another inevitable disappointment, he holds his breath. His blue eyes cautiously scan the emerald surroundings.

Sunlight dances off the green and the flowers like gemstones. Despite the gleaming radiance of the scenery, dark and tumultuous storms ravage his insides. Even as he stands now, immersed in Alice's presence, he isn't sure how much more his patience can endure.

Castiel trails his gaze to the right side of the spring.

Something is different.

A string of small white blossoms leads from the edge of the banks. It guides his attention towards a giant weeping willow bowing slightly towards the spring. To the right side, the vines fall and sweep the ground below with gentle brushes. To the left, the green ribbons drape thick and heavy over a cocoon like mass.

Castiel can feel his insides tightening. He remembers this. He remembers something similar happening before.

As he advances towards the willow, his eyes continue to explore the strange mass of vines. Interwoven among the leaves are bunches of flowers in various colors. The flora seems to have made the crawl from meters around just to burrow past the vines to curl around the cocoon. The verdant sphere is pulsating with the immortal's energy. It is unmistakably Alice's.

Castiel reaches forward to part the first layer of vines. As his fingers push against the green trails, he pauses.

What if Alice was right? What if she had emerged changed, and the Alice he knows is gone?

Castiel grits his teeth, his distress mounting. More urgently than before, his hands dig and pull at the swath. To his mild relief, the vines do not offer much resistance, and after a few minutes, he breaks through the cocoon's center.

Light streams through from the opening he made, and it illuminates the space inside. Castiel dithers, his eyes marveling at the creature before him.

Held within the tangles of the willow is Alice. Her face is serene in her slumber, and the plant life wrapped around her chest rises and falls with each breath. Her clothes, for some reason, are gone, leaving the vines' duty to secure her decency. Of the skin that is revealed to him, Castiel discerns a soft glow, barely noticeable, but still distinct to his eyes. She looks so soft, and Castiel suddenly finds himself aching for the feel of her.

His hand reaches out of its own accord, tentative yet cravingly, to touch her face.

"Alice." Castiel calls out in a soft voice, brushing back her raven hair. It has grown exorbitantly long again. "Can you hear me?"

A gentle crease appears between her brows, and a soft moan escapes her lips. Alice's eyes begin to open.

 **~Alice's P.O.V.~**

You're surrounded by a gentle warmth. You feel cozy and safe. The sensation reminds you of velvet pillows and comforters with the fragrance of flowers enveloping you.

A presence brushes against your consciousness, nudging you to wake. You can hear it calling your name. A part of you wants to continue sleeping, but the other part cannot help but find the presence seductive. It glows like a torch, radiating warmth and affection. And its voice! Rippling through your mind like deep honey. Your senses drift helplessly towards it.

You moan in your wake, the heavy haze of slumber lifting from your mind. You open your eyes, blinking to adjust against the light. You catch the blurry figure of someone familiar leaning over you, and it takes you a few seconds before the image sharpens.

Castiel watches you with a tense expression, sobriety etched on every line of his face.

Your eyes caress his features. You're nearly breathless from his beauty.

"Am I dreaming?" You utter dazedly.

Relief breaks from his visage and he smiles. Castiel quickly lowers, bending down to drop a kiss over your lips.

Your reaction is immediate. The vines pull free as you quickly encircle your arms around Castiel's neck, pulling him closer and relishing his taste.

Castiel smiles against your kiss, clearly enjoying your eagerness. After a while, his hands slide over your own, and he firmly but gently separates from your hold.

"Welcome back, Alice." There is a hint of worry in his eyes. "How do you feel?"

You continue to stare at him, mirroring his unease. You search your senses for any anomalies as the last of your haziness recedes. Other than now having your memories intact, you don't quite feel all that different. You stare in the angel's eyes, and your silence seems to have increased his distress. You wonder if there is perhaps some change you are unaware of. Your brows pucker. "I feel fine, I think. Do I seem different?"

Castiel breathes out a sigh of relief, his face relaxing. The man now regards you with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "No. You are exactly as you are."

You feel your own worry disappear. Beaming, you grip onto his hands and pull yourself upright.

The vines around you loosen and withdraw with obedience, setting you lightly upon the ground. The cocoon of green and blossoms collapses apart almost immediately, allowing more light to stream through the branches. The vines retreat to their original stations, donning once again the appearance of a normal willow, save for the loose petals of various flowers clinging to the twine. A breeze passes, shaking the vines free of the lacing blooms, dropping petals at your feet.

You can feel the warmth of the rays across your skin, but also the light chill of wind. When you register that the willow has left you completely unclothed, embarrassment burns across your face. You notice Castiel's eyes on you and you quickly try to cover yourself. As if hearing your distress, the plants come rushing back to surround you, shielding you like a protective entity.

Staring at the ground, you can hear Castiel chuckle. The sound draws your attention, and you peer up at him. With a smile still playing on his lips, the angel quickly sheds his coat. Stepping forward, he draws back some of the vines to drape the coat around you. Attuned to your will, the vines recoil as the fabric slides across your shoulders.

"Thanks." You mumble, heat still coloring your cheeks, and you pull the lapels of the coat further around you. You can feel Castiel's warmth emanating from the soft material.

A lock of hair falls over your vision, and you push it away. It is only then you realize its length now once again plunges to the soles of your feet. Your lips press into a perturbed line. You've lost count at the number of times you had to cut your hair because of your _Wikkōn_ transformations.

"How long have I been gone?"

Traces of seriousness return to Castiel's features. "About five days."

Apprehension starts to cloud your mind. Five days is longer than you planned. "Has anything happened? How are Sam and Dean?"

His previous smile drops, and your heart skips a beat.

"Sam and Dean are fine."

You let out a sigh of relief, but your senses remain alert.

"I wish there was more time for you to rest, but the Winchesters came across something disturbing."

You offer him your undivided attention.

"I received a message from Dean the other day. It seems they found a monster more powerful than any we have ever encountered. Two people are already dead, and if Lucifer gets a hold of this creature, it could spell doom for all of us. I need your help in eliminating it." Castiel's gaze bores deeply into your own, silently asking if you are ready to take on such a challenge so soon since your merge. His recount worries you. A monster more powerful than any you have ever encountered? A number of grotesque possibilities flit across your mind.

You're about to run through a series of questions, but you stop yourself. If this monster really is as dangerous as Castiel says, it would be better to hurry to Sam and Dean's side without delay. You nod to the direction of the cottage Maggie last pointed to. "I just need some clothes before we leave. There is a cottage not far from here. Can you get us there?"

Castiel's eyes follow your line of vision. "Of course."

He raises a hand and presses it to your brow. You feel a spark at the contact and the abrupt shift in your surroundings. In the span of a blink, you have traveled from the misty spring to the cedar interior of an aesthetically furnished living room. As Castiel takes his hand away, you glance around the space. The ceilings are high, and they meet at a triangular point. At its center dangles a rustic chandelier with actual candles lining the circular rims, however, additional conic bulbs accent the metallic frames as well. To the right of you is the kitchen, divided from the living-dining room area by a granite counter top and three bar stools. Atop the surface sits a folded card with your name on it.

You stride across the wooden-planked surface, careful to keep a tight hold over the lapels of Castiel's coat over your chest. You take the card off the counter with your free hand and read its contents.

 _Congratulations!_

 _You're now ALMOST back to your old self._

 _You will find your things in the upstairs guest bedroom. I took the liberty of bringing some from your apartment. Don't even think about getting off this island to help your friends. There is still much I have to teach about your powers before you're able to help anyone._

 _-Lots of love, Maggie_

You frown, digging your fingers into the paper. Don't leave? You don't really have a choice.

"Is something wrong?" Castiel notices your hesitation and approaches from behind.

You quickly fold the note and hide it from view. You turn to face Castiel wearing a mask of pleasantry.

"Not at all. Just Maggie making a joke at my expense." You smile reassuringly when he doesn't seem to believe you. "I'll get my clothes so we can leave right away."

You stride towards the staircase to the far right wall and move quickly up the steps. You feel Castiel's curious gaze on you the entire way. At the top, you see a brief hallway with four doors placed at different intervals. You pace past each one, looking briefly into each room. The first was a shared bathroom, then a large bedroom resembling closely to that of Maggie's back in Chicago, the third is a closet. Finally, at the last door, you see a moderate sized room with neutral colors and furnishings. You find a familiar pile of clothes sitting at the foot of the bed. Stepping in, you close the door behind you and pull Castiel's coat off. As you drape the coat over the closest banister at the footboard, you scan the contents of Maggie's note again.

What more did you have to know about your powers? You have all your memories now. You can perceive the flow of Earth's natural energies and remember how to bend their forces to your will. You can also recite every incantation from heart… more or less. It has been 6000 years. What is there left to teach? Castiel said he needed your help _now_. Maggie will simply have to tell you when you return. Hopefully, you _will_ return. The urgency in Castiel's manner casts a foreboding tone over the whole experience.

Remembering the angel still waiting downstairs, you drop the note on the bed and snatch up your clothes. Thankfully Maggie has laid out one of your most comfortable jeans and t-shirt. After lacing up your boots, you grab your habitual wine red jacket Maggie also remembered to bring and slipped it on. You can feel the weight in the side pockets where you phone and keys are. You grab Castiel's coat and hurry out the door and back down the stairs.

"Sorry that took so long."

Castiel watches you as you approach, and seeing you back in your regular attire brings a small smile to his face. He holds out his hand for you to take.

You pause. "Ah, just one last thing." You hurry back into the kitchen and fumble through a few drawers until you find what you're looking for.

Castiel raises his brow when he sees you pull out a large pair of sheers.

You grab your hair in a bundle, twisting it around your wrist. In one large snip, you clean off a meter of your hair. Setting the trail of black tresses and the scissors on the counter, you walk back to Castiel and take his hand. "Now I'm ready."

Castiel pulls you in, an amused grin on his lips. He brings his fingers to your forehead and you close your eyes. Once the same spark is felt, you feel the change in your environment. Opening your eyes, you find yourself in another dingy motel room. You spy the familiar belongings of the Winchester brothers. Something about the dilapidated lodging brings you a sense of ease, despite what you're about to endeavor on. Just as you're start ask for the whereabouts of the brothers, you see two familiar energy signatures approaching the paint-chipped door.

The first one to walk through the entrance is Sam, dressed in his FBI guise. His head pulls a double take when he sees you and Castiel standing at the center of the room.

"Alice?"

You grin and rush towards the taller man just as Dean appears from the threshold in a similar dark suit. Sam receives you in a hug.

"Did you say Alice?" Dean's bewilderment melts into a smile just as you move on from Sam to tackle the older brother. "Back from Chicago!" Dean pulls back, glancing from you to Castiel with a slightly nervous look. "I'm guessing you guys are all right now?"

You quirk an eyebrow, throwing a questioning regard back to the angel.

"Yes." Castiel answers without returning your gaze.

"What's all right?" You direct your attention to Sam when neither of the other two seem willing to answer you.

Sam simply shrugs while taking a seat at the table by the window.

Dean shakes his head and mutters. "It's nothing important, never mind."

"I take it you got our message?" Sam asks Castiel before you're able to question Dean further.

Castiel's eyes darken. "It's lucky you found the boy."

You bristle. "What boy? Is he a victim?" You glance to Sam and Dean. "Did you save him?"

The two men shoot you a weird look.

"What, didn't Cass tell you?" Dean shifts his gaze from the angel to you. "There's a kid in this town that's turning prank toys into the real thing. And he doesn't even know he's doing it."

Confusion only grows in your mind, and you look back to Castiel. There is an unreadable expression on his face. "Well, we didn't have a lot of time. I was told you guys found an incredibly dangerous monster and that I was needed to help stop it."

The two brothers raise their brows. Sam directs a pointed look to Castiel. "Explanation?"

Castiel sighs, approaching the table. "This boy they found is half demon half human, but it's far more powerful than either. Other cultures call this hybrid Cambion or Katako." He pauses, measuring your expressions. "You know him as the antichrist."

Castiel moves to sit in the chair closest to you, but before you're able to warn him of what he is about to sit on, it's already too late. The unnerving sound of an outrageously long flatulence assaults the senses of everyone in the room. Castiel shifts uncomfortably in his seat while the noise prolongs an ungodly stretch of time. When the blast finally ends, you're biting down on a knuckle to restrain yourself. Dean has an equally amused look on his face. The only ones with perturbed faces are Sam and Castiel.

The angel reaches down to pull the rubber toy into view. "That wasn't me." His voice is a low growl of irritation before he tosses the toy onto the table.

You cough into your hand; a cough that sounds oddly like a laugh.

"Who put that there?" Despite the comment, Dean earns himself a pointed look from everyone in the room.

"Anyways." Sam brings the discussion back on point. "I don't get it. Jesse is the devil's son?"

Castiel shakes his head. "No, of course not. Your bible gets more wrong than it does right. The Antichrist is not Lucifer's child. It's just demon spawn. But it is one of the devil's greatest weapons in the war against heaven."

You listen aptly for his explanation, waiting for the moment he divulges his plan.

Dean shifts soundly beside you. "Well, if Jesse's a demonic howitzer, then what the hell's he doing in Nebraska?"

So the child's name is Jesse. You try to imagine what the boy would look like, but the image only alters between a normal child to a sinister visage of a demon, you can't see an in-between.

You catch the tension in Castiel's shoulders, and feel the impatience rolling off him. The angel wants to act right away, and he isn't appreciating the lack of resolve in everyone else.

"The demons lost him. They can't find him. But they're looking."

Dean isn't satisfied. "And they lost him because…?"

"Because of the child's power. It hides him from both angels and demons. For now."

"So he's got, like, a force field around him." Dean states with a flourish. "Well, that's great! Problem solved."

A restless breath escapes the angel's lips. "With Lucifer risen, this child grows strong. Soon he will do more than just make a few toys come to life— something that will draw the demons to him." Castiel glares at the space in front of him, envisioning a dire future. "The demons _will_ find this child. Lucifer will twist this boy to his purpose and then, with a word, this _child_ will destroy the host of heaven."

Your eyes widen. How can any one creature be so powerful? Only a word to destroy heaven?

Dean shakes his head. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. You're saying that— that Jesse's gonna nuke the angels?"

Castiel narrows his eyes. "We cannot allow that to happen."

Your mind is still reeling from everything you've learned. You lower yourself to the last empty chair, feeling a little light headed. "S-so, what do you want us to do? What do you want _me_ to do?"

Castiel's gaze hardens. "Kill him."

You lose your voice.

"Cass!" Deans echoes your bewilderment.

Sam shoots up from his chair, unable to contain his revulsion at the idea. "Wait! We're the good guys, we- we don't just kill children!"

Castiel stands to meet Sam's gaze. You notice his knuckles pressing against the grain of the table, and the indent they're starting to make. "A year ago, you would have done whatever it took to win this war." His tone is edgy, and you know he's about to lose his temper.

Sam doesn't back down. "Things change."

You stand up, holding a hand in front of Castiel to gain his attention. "Not so fast. I still don't understand." You look to Sam and Dean. "You said this boy made a few toys come to life? And he doesn't even know he's doing this?"

The two men nod, and you switch your attention back to the angel. "How did two people die?"

Dean jumps in before Castiel. "His parents told him that itching powder will make you scratch your brains out and a toy buzzer will electrocute you. A girl ended up digging through to her skull, and another old timer… well… you get the idea." He pauses when he sees your incredulous expression. "His adoptive parents. They're normal people."

You turn a pensive face to Castiel. His frown only deepens. "This child isn't a monster, Cass. As far as he knows, he's just a normal kid. If he was inherently evil, this town would be facing much worse disasters than a few dangerous toys."

Castiel looks away, his jaw pulled tight.

You try to step into his line of vision. "We can't kill an innocent child."

"Okay. Hey, look," Dean steps forward, waving a hand between you and the angel. "We're not going to kill him, all right?" When Castiel glares at him, he quickly elaborates. " **But**... we can't leave Jesse here either, we know that. So…" The hunter searches for a plan with a gesture of his hands. "So we take him to Bobby's. He'll know what to do."

Castiel stares at the man with exasperation. "You'll kidnap him." He angles forward when no one seems to understand his insinuation. "What's going on in this town, it's what happens when this _thing_ is happy."

You grimace at his word choice.

"You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry."

Dean winces.

"Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be halfway around the world."

Dean's eyes shift left and right. "So we-"

"So we tell him the truth." Sam interjects, walking around the table, and pushing past you to meet Castiel's challenge. "You say Jesse is destined to go dark side, fine. But he _hasn't_ yet. So if we lay it all out for him, what he is, the apocalypse, everything- he might make the right choice."

Sam's words resonate with your belief and you look to Castiel in hopes he is convinced. Your heart sinks when you see his expression.

The angel leans in, his glare scathing. His voice is a low trenchant growl.

" **You** didn't. And _I_ can't take that chance."

You give him a sharp look. "Cass, that's not fair and you know it. Sam was lied to, manipulated by the demons _and_ angels. Something I believe we can _all_ attest to."

Castiel stares at you, and you can see the specks of betrayal burning behind his eyes. Without spoken words, the emotion shifts and his gaze implores you to reconsider.

You heart clenches at the sight, and you take a deep breath, but remain unwavering in your response. Seeing your answer, Castiel closes his eyes and turns away.

"If none of you are up to the task, I'll just have to finish this myself."

Your hand reaches out, but you're a second too late. The angel has disappeared with a flutter.

You retract your hand, frowning. It's barely been a week since you've confessed to each other, and you're already having your first argument.

"Dammit." Sam breathes out.

You whirl around. "We have to find Jesse before Castiel kills him… or vice versa."

The brothers glance at each other and nod.

"We better hurry. His house is only a few minutes away." Dean motions for you to follow as everyone moves for the door. "We'll fill you in on everything else on the way."

* * *

 **Please READ AND REVIEW!**


	16. To Levy the Cost

"So you've never heard or seen something like Jesse before?"

You catch Dean peering over to you via the rearview mirror, a mild tension on his brow.

"A demon-possessed-virgin woman forced into pregnancy without copulation." You shake your head. "Of all my life times as a human and _Wikkōn_ , I have never encountered such a possibility." Your forehead creases, and you stare pensively through the passenger window to the passing scenery. It's dark, almost midnight, and few are awake and about in this small town.

"To create such a strong hybrid, the mother must have been a devote Christian with uncanny spiritual prowess. The demon would also have been incredibly strong. I can't even imagine the dark magic they'd have to use to produce a new living creature."

Sam lets out a soundly breath. "But Jesse's not evil, he's not even a bad kid. There's nothing demonic about him."

You want to tell the man to relax, but you know it would have no effect. "Nothing born into this world is inherently evil, you can only be swayed to one side after the fact. Earth is in the plane of physical existence, which means everything in the world is a mixture of light and dark, good and evil. From the micro-organisms in the air we breathe to every human and every monster we've killed, they all possess the same two counterparts."

Sam jerks towards you. "You're telling me vampires and werewolves can be good?"

Dean turns just so slightly, signaling his own interest.

Your lips press into a grim line, trying to find the words that would be relatable to their understandings. "Good and evil are relative and subjective terms. What you might perceive as evil, someone else would perceive as survival. A vampire feeds off human blood because it is their known source of nourishment. Human wars are waged because of a struggle for food and resources, and entire nations and races are painted as evil because of these battles for self-preservation."

"I'm not sure I can agree with that." Dean grips the steering wheel, the leather groaning under the strain. "Calling a human-drinking-vamp normal is like saying we were wrong to kill them. The way they hunt humans, even torture them before drinking them. I can't see monsters as anything else but evil."

"I'm not saying you were wrong to kill them, but for many of these creatures, their behavior and their way of life is all they know. I can tell you from personal experience that I have encountered vampires and werewolves who have sympathized with the human race and have done their best to co-exist among them." You cut your explanations short as you begin to sense Castiel's energy. You throw your gaze forward, trying to perceive which house the energy is coming from. "We can continue this conversation another time. I can feel we're close."

Your words bring the two hunter's attention back to the road, just in time when Dean takes a sharp turn into an adjacent street. Two seconds pass before the Impala slides into the driveway of a white paneled house. With your senses alert, you see the distinct angelic light of Castiel and near it is a tumultuous swirl of energy in colors you've never seen or felt before. You blink, not believing your eyes. Such pure, radiant power contained in such a small vessel. It nearly eclipses the two other human auras appearing unconscious on the upper floor.

All three of you hurry out the car, slamming the doors in almost unison.

"He's already here!" You shout as you race across the lawn. "I think he's about to attack the boy."

"Dammit!" Dean is one step ahead of you. He leaps onto the porch, and with one leg pulled back, he crashes his foot into the door.

The lock breaks apart, pulling from the frame. A loud clamor sounds as the wood smashes against the interior wall.

Feeling Castiel's light flicker, you quickly push past the two hunters and rush into the house. You halt after a few steps. The angel's light has not disappeared as you feared, but is instead forced into a small containment. It takes you a few blinks before you realize the containment lying on the floor in front of you is in the shape of a plastic toy, sculpted in Castiel's exact resemblance.

Sam and Dean stand around you, looking about the room.

"Where is he? Where's Cass?"

You walk forward into the living room, barely noticing the small boy standing terrified by the corner a few feet from you. He watches you with cautious interest as you move to pick up Castiel's figurine.

The brothers pause when they see who you assume is Jesse.

"Was there a guy here?" Dean asks still looking around nervously. "In a trench coat?"

The boy slowly raises a hand and points to the figurine in your grasp. The brothers follow his line of vision, their eyes widening with awe when they see what is held in your fingers. When you look up to meet the hunters' expressions, you give a calm but dismal shake of your head, silently answering the question in their eyes as to whether the angel is dead or not.

You glance back to the boy. You can see his fear, and the bubbling pulse of his latent power. Your eyes search his form, scrutinizing every fiber of his being. You let out a sigh of relief.

He is pure, innocent, and unbelievably kind.

You turn your full body towards him, offering him your most gentle regard. His body tenses under your gaze.

"Hello, Jesse. You've already met the two gentlemen beside me. My name is Alice. I am a colleague of theirs. I promise we won't hurt you."

At your last word, the boy suddenly pulls back. He glares at you, but you can feel his wavering doubt. "That's exactly what _he_ said before he pulled out his knife." Jesse points accusingly at the figurine.

You sigh, mentally shaking your head at Castiel's rashness. With a firm expression, you explain yourself. "You don't have to worry. You transformed your attacker into a plastic toy. You may do the same with us if you think we're a threat."

Dean taps you on the arm and hisses under his breath. "Hey, what the hell are you telling him? I don't want to turn into a toy."

You ignore the man. "Do you mind if we sit down?" You look across to the arrangement of couches and chairs around the fireplace. "There is a lot we would like to discuss with you, and hopefully explain some of the questions you must now have." You see the boy relaxing, and you know your _Wikkōn_ powers have succeeded in their influences. The _Wikkōn_ have always had a calming effect over others, particularly children and animals. The simpler and purer the being the more susceptible.

Jesse gives a slow nod, accepting your offer.

You take the lead and move towards one of the chairs. A moment later, the two brothers move mechanically to follow your example, passing each other nervous glances along the way. Sam sits beside you, and Dean decides to stay standing, shifting anxiously from one foot to another.

When you gesture for Jesse to join you, the boy drags his sneakers across the wooden floors towards the couch.

"We can answer some of your questions to start." You say once he sits down.

Jesse stares at you, then glances down to the figurine still in your hands. His eyes narrow at the gingerly way you're holding it. "Was he your friend?'

"Him? No." Dean cuts you off before you can tell the truth. He passes you a pointed look, expecting you to leave him to give the answers. You reply with a passive stare.

"I did that. But how did I do that?" Jesse seems to have accepted Dean's answer and is quick to move on.

Dean's gaze flickers about the room, searching for the right response. His face lights up when he seems to find his answer.

"You're a superhero!"

Jesse's eyes grow wide with excitement. Wonder shines from his visage, a direct contrast to your own expression. You don't like the lying.

"I am?"

"Yeah. I mean, who else could turn someone into a toy? You're Superman, minus the cape and the go-go boots." Dean glances back at you and Sam, verifying if the two of you were on board with his story. He takes your reticent expressions as a sign of approval. "See my partners and I, we work for a secret government agency. It's our job to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're here to take you to a hidden base in South Dakota, where you'll be trained to fight evil.

"Like the X-Men?"

"Exactly like the X-Men. In fact, the, uh, guy we're taking you to- he's even in a wheelchair. You'll be a hero. You'll save lives, you'll get the girl. Sounds like fun, right?"

A sinister energy invades your senses and you bolt from your seat, startling everyone. But before anyone is able to make a sound, you're immediately wrenched to the floor, an invisible force driving you into the ground. The string of incantations is lodged in your throat, unable to escape your lips.

You hear painful grunts from Sam and Dean a few meters away as you're sure they're facing a similar invisible attack.

You berate yourself. How did you miss this demonic energy? The swirling mass of darkness approaching the door is certainly no rival of Lilith's, but it _is_ stronger than any other demon you've encountered.

Wooden grain groans as the door to the back yard is blown open, scattering splinters across the floor. Although you can't see with your face and body pressed to the hardwood planks, you know the demon is now standing at the threshold. You muster every ounce of energy to push against the oppressive weight.

"They're lying to you." The female voice says.

Footsteps sound across the couch as they move closer to you. "Stay right there, dreamboat. Can't hurt you. Orders. …You, on the other hand? Hurting you's encouraged."

You hear a wrenching sound and know one of the brothers is in crippling pain.

 _Dammit!_

"Leave him alone!" You hear Jesse cry, and you redouble your efforts.

The footsteps come towards you and fall into view. You grit your teeth, barely able to turn your head upwards to look at the woman. Shoulder length blond hair in messy waves, and a face weathered by life and stress to years far beyond her actual age. A pitiful woman, who even now would bear the adversity of a demonic possession. Her body radiates with a poisonous miasma, and her sinister visage leers down at you. She smirks, and you realize with a sinking feeling that she knows what you are. You can't speak. You can't move. You can't access your spells. You're useless.

 _~…There is still much I have to teach you about your powers before you're able to help anyone...~_

Maggie's words burn through your mind. She warned you! How conceited were you to think you would be vital. Your gaze shifts to the figurine clutched in your hand, only inches from your face. Is Castiel to be trapped in this form forever? You can scarcely move a finger.

The demoness looks away and directs her attention to the boy.

"Jesse!" She bends down. Her words dripping with false tenderness. "You're beautiful. You have your father's eyes…"

Their conversation falls on deaf ears as you search for a way to expel her hold on you. You rack your brain, sweat lining your temples from the focus. There is one way, but it would take time, and you're not sure if your current situation will grant it. Your clutch over Castiel's plastic form tightens, and you decide to throw all your doubts and caution to the wind. What other option do you have?

You steady your breathing and calm your mind. _Concentrate, Alice. Concentrate!_

Lying as you are, you let out a gentle ripple of energy from your body, barely detectable to the senses. Almost immediately, you can feel a shift in the atmosphere surrounding the house.

The plants and trees outside start to sway. The roots underground begin their crawl.

"She means demons, Jesse!" You hear Dean suddenly gasp out, followed by another painful groan. No doubt he's being tortured for speaking out of turn.

"Those people you call your parents, they lied to you, too." The demon returns, an anxious edge riding her voice. "You're not theirs, not really." She's rushing to manipulate the child's emotions. You wonder if she could sense the changes outside.

"They treated you like a child! Nobody's trusted you, everybody's lied to you. Doesn't that make you angry?"

A flash of fearsome energy bursts from the boy, causing the house to rumble under its strength.

The flash catches you by surprise, and its power is so potent, it crushes your own. You feel your previous energy fizzle into nothingness. The plants outside still.

Your mind is blank with petrified awe. Only now do you realize the gravity of the boy's strength.

Jesse has quelled your energy with a mere flex of his own. And he isn't even _aware_ of it. If he is capable of neutralizing you so easily, how would you possibly fight against such a foe if Lucifer succeeds in twisting his mind?

Fear courses through your veins like ice.

"See, it does make you angry. But I'm telling you the truth, Jesse. Wouldn't it be better if there were no lies? Come with me... and we can wash it all clean. Start over. Imagine that. A world with no lies."

Your heart stutters. Is this it? Are you to lose Jesse to the demon just like this? Unable to do anything? _No!_ You refuse to accept this. You _refuse_ to give in to the fear.

"She's right."

Sam's interjection breaks your thoughts, and you're hooked by his odd words.

"We lied to you. But I'll tell you the truth." There's a shocked gasp and Sam wheezes. "I just want... to tell..."

"Stop it. I want to hear what he has to say."

A portion of the power flowing from the demon rescinds, and your pulse spikes with tension. You haven't lost just yet. Your heart throbs with fragile hope. If Sam plays his cards right, there still might be a chance Jesse will choose you three.

"You're stronger than I thought." The demoness muses. Her voice appears calm, but you hear a tremor of doubt.

"We lied to you. And I'm sorry. So here's the truth. I'm Sam Winchester. That's my brother, Dean. And my friend, Alice. We hunt monsters."

"Except when you are the monster. Right, Sammy?" She taunts.

But Sam continues unfazed. "And that woman right there, her name is Julia. She's your mother. But the thing inside of her, the thing you're talking to, it's a demon."

"A demon?"

A wave of confusion and apprehension mingles in the boy's aura causing an equal wave of erratic panic from the woman.

"He's done nothing but lie to you since the moment you met him. Don't listen to him." You can feel her smirk. "Punish him."

"Sit down and shut up."

Like a vice being loosened, you feel the earlier pressure that immobilized you weaken. You sit up from the floor, easily breaking from the remainder of the hold the demon had on you.

You look at the woman to your right. She is now pushed into a chair, limbs fastened to the wooden arms and legs by invisible restraints. She glowers at you, muffled curses sounding behind locked lips. You watch her warily before turning to the others.

Jesse looks rather apologetic, probably for not giving his orders earlier. However, his attention is distracted, and you know he wants the younger Winchester to continue his explanation.

Glancing at the taller man, you draw Castiel's figure to your chest and start to stand. Sam's gaze inquires for your wellbeing and for your verbal guidance.

You nod, but remain silent.

There is a deep sincerity in his regard, pooling from the hidden emotions and experiences you never knew he carried. You marvel at the depth of his sentiments. Just one look at the honesty in his eyes and you know he'd be far more suited to enlighten Jesse to the realities of his powers and of their burdens than you ever could.

Sam sees your trust and returns with a solemn nod. His burning gaze then shifts to the boy next to you. "There's... uh… kind of uh... a war between angels and demons, and... you're a part of it."

Jesse tenses at the mention of war. "I'm just a kid!"

Sam nods sympathetically. "You can go with her if you want. I can't stop you. No one can. But if you do... millions of people will die."

You peer over to Jesse's small frame. Only twelve years old and forced to shoulder the conflict of a millennium. You can see his heart drumming with upset.

"She said I was half demon. Is that true?"

"Yes. But you're half human too." Sam steadily approaches. "You can do the right thing. You have choices, Jesse. But if you make the wrong ones, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life."

Jesse sways back, unable to bear the severity of what is being unveiled to him. "Why're you telling me this?"

Sam's face darkens, drawing your concern. You see the pain and regret in his eyes, and you know what afflicts him.

"Because I have to believe someone can make the right choice… even if I couldn't."

Jesse dithers in place. Though his body is still, his emotions are a pendulum, inwardly swinging back and forth to the choices he's been given. It's unfair. You know it. He knows it. Why should a child have to give his life to forward the agendas of beings too selfish and wrapped up in their vendettas to understand that they are destroying innocent lives?

As you watch him deliberate, with very well the weight of the world and your lives at stake, you realize _this_ is one of those few decisive moments where you must not interfere.

"Get out of her."

Your eyes widen at Jesse's sudden command.

To your right, the demoness is blown back from the power of just four words. The legs of the chair scrape against the wooden floor as she is pushed all the way to the walls. The woman cries out, head jerked back and lips wrenched ajar. Thick plumes of black smoke discharges from her mouth. Forcibly exorcised from Jesse's power, the demon essence yanks upward before curling back down only to be thrown out through the fireplace and up the chimney.

When the dark entity is gone, Dean is immediately released from his hold. He doubles over in hacks of coughing.

You and Sam share looks of shock.

"How did you do that?"

Jesse shrugs at Sam's question, looking coyly proud of himself. "I just did."

Dean straightens and takes a deep breath. He passes Jesse a wry grin, still weak from the demon's power. "Kid..." Dean breathes out. "You're awesome."

Jesse looks down, trying to keep from grinning.

You close your eyes and bask in the momentary relief, preparing your mind for the future. This is only the beginning of an uphill battle. You now have to bring Jesse to Bobby, and despite him choosing your group over the demon, he could still change his mind and leave at any time. When you open your eyes, you're glancing down at the angel figurine.

"Is she gonna be all right?"

Prompted by Jesse's question, you look to the woman's unconscious form.

"Eventually." Dean answers.

You notice the man eyeing your hand, or rather what you're still holding, before he starts towards you. You can see a nervous sway in his step.

"Look, uh, truth is…" Dean gestures to plastic Castiel. "He's kind of a buddy of ours. Is there any way you could turn him back?"

Jesse's expression hardens. "He tried to kill me."

Dean pauses. "Right. ...Uh... But he's a- he's a good guy. He was just confused." When Jesse's expression remains unchanged, the hunter quickly relents. "Okay. It's been a long night. We'll... talk about it later." Dean edges away, as if to distance himself from culpability.

You sigh, knowing you would have to endure the wait for Castiel's return a while longer. Passing his form from your right hand to the other, you step towards the sleeping woman. You raise your palm over the woman's features and float it down her body. You feel the damage the demon has caused, invisible lacerations burning throughout her mind and soul.

"With your permission, I would like to heal her." You say, turning to Jesse with tired eyes. "Your birth mother was forced into her current life without her consent, and she's been suffering from the demon's actions for years. I could ease her pain, but that would involve wiping and altering her memories of the last twelve years. Are you prepared for that?"

Jesse stares at you in surprise. His gaze then lowers to his mother. After a moment of deep reflection, he nods.

Everyone is silent as they watch you start to work.

You close your eyes and place your hand over Julia's brow. Altering the memories of a person is powerful and intricate magic. You would be snipping the connections to the people she encountered over the years, the experiences she derived from them, and ultimately the future she would have had if she remained the same. Your _Wikkōn_ powers flex as you draw from your deep well of ancient spells.

One by one, you blur out the memories of demons, possessions, the pregnancy, the birth, and her unending solitude. You twist the dark experiences into dream like ambiguity, and replace the cause of her distance from her loved ones to her idea of independence and mental aspirations. When she awakens, Julia would look back on her last twelve years as a miscalculation, a phase that she grew out of, and would most likely return to her old life.

When her memories are forged, your palm then travels over her heart. The only reason the demons chose her in the first place was due to her unusually strong spiritual powers. Had she been trained, she would have been a formidable hunter. You mutter a string of arcane incantations, closing her channels to her spiritual abilities. As a last gift you bestow before you finish, you decide to burn a _Wikkōn_ seal of protection on her heart. This way, no demon would ever be able to detect or infiltrate her body again.

You retract your hand and step back, assessing your work. "She'll be fine now. Demons won't be likely to bother her anymore. When she wakes up, she can go back to her normal life."

Jesse nods, unsure of what he should be feeling. "So… What now?"

You're exhausted, and Sam is looking just as weary. When neither of you seem willing to break the news to the boy, Dean steps up to take the reins.

"Now we take you some place safe. Get you trained up. You'd be handy in a fight, kid."

The edges of Jesse's lips tug downward. "What if I don't want to fight?"

Your mind halts.

Sam approaches the boy and kneels down on one knee. "Jesse." He sighs. "You're powerful. More powerful than... pretty much anything we've ever seen. That makes you-".

"A freak?"

Sam's jaw tightens. "To some people, maybe. But not to us. See, we're kind of freaks ourselves." He glances back to his brother, receiving a lopsided grin in return.

Jesse looks down at his feet. "I can't stay here can I?"

"No." Dean's reply is firm. "The demons know where you are, and more will be coming."

You hear the boy's heart skip a beat.

"I won't go without my mom and dad."

The three of you exchange looks.

Sam frowns. "There's nothing more important than family. We get that. And if you really want to take them with you, we'll back your play. But you got to understand… it's gonna be dangerous for them too."

"What do you mean?" the boy is genuinely perplexed.

Dean exhales. "Our dad, he would take us with him wherever he went."

Jesse's eyes dart around the room. "Where is he now?"

"Dead." Sam answers. "A demon killed him."

You watch the child swallow, and his hope of remaining with his family crumble. This is too much. He is still too young.

Dean steps closer and lowers himself next to his brother. "Look, Jesse... Once you're in this fight. You're in it till the end. Win or lose."

"What should I do?"

Sam shakes his head. "We can't tell you. It's your choice. It's not fair. I know."

After absorbing their final words, Jesse looks up again. "Can I go see my parents? I… uh... I need to... say goodbye."

Dean is the main recipient of Jesse's stare. At a loss of what to say, he only responds, "sure."

You watch the twelve-year-old boy trudge upstairs. Despite the heaviness in his steps and the solemnity of his future, he holds his head high.

Why _does_ Jesse need to fight? Be a pawn for Earth's destruction or be a pawn against it? Are those really his only two choices?

The _Wikkōn_ have always been sensitive to the needs of vulnerable children, and these instincts plague your senses now. Jesse had been brave and kind enough to refuse the demon's seduction, thus keeping Lucifer's victory out of reach a while longer. Yes, having Jesse as an ally would greatly increase your chances of winning, but the idea of securing your own future at the risk of his life sends your stomach in an upturn.

You decide to take the gamble.

"I'm gonna go upstairs to check on him." You move to the stairs before either brother could object. Both men are lounging on the chair and couch, recuperating from the mental fatigue. And even as you walk up the steps, other than a shrug, neither hunter moves.

At the top of the stairs, you see three doors. Two human energies are lying unconscious behind the door to your left. Jesse's parents are still sound asleep. However, Jesse isn't with them. You turn your head to the right, and find his unique aura alone in another room. You round the railings to stand in front of his door. Judging from his energy signature, the boy still seems torn. You raise a hand to the door and knock.

"Jesse, it's me, Alice. May I come in? I would like to speak with you."

There is a moment of silence.

"Okay."

You breathe out. Gently pushing the door open, you walk inside.

Jesse is sitting on his bed. Across from him is his study desk, with giant posters of beaches and surfing plastered on the walls just above. One particular poster dominates the others, showing a surfer in midst of a wave. Large bolded letters read SURF and AUSTRALIA. His obvious fascination makes you smile.

"Do you mind if I sit on the bed too?"

Jesse shrugs. "Sure."

You lower yourself to the corner of his bed. "I like your posters. Australia's great around this time of year. It'll be summer in just few months for them, did you know?"

"I don't want to leave."

You watch his sullen expression. His lips tremble just the slightest, and his hands are clutching the sheets of his bed.

"I don't want to fight in this war. I don't want to train. I don't want to leave this house, or my school, or my friends. I don't want to leave my parents."

Your eyes soften, and your protective instincts grow even stronger.

Jesse sighs. "But I know I have to."

Your heart melts under his courage, and breaks for his sacrifice. When this boy grows up, he will become a human of rare virtues.

You give a small sigh. "It's… difficult… when we've never encountered a person with such extraordinary abilities. There is little _anyone_ can do to force you into anything. And should someone want you to do… _anything_ , they would have to appeal to your reason and your generosity."

When Jesse looks at you quizzically, you relinquish your earlier cryptic tone and adopt a more serious one. You lower your gaze to his eye level.

"With your powers, you can go wherever and be whoever you want. And no one, _no one_ will be able to stop you."

His eyes light up.

"However, I must warn you. You are still young, and regardless of how powerful you are, there _will_ be times when you will feel lost." You reach for his left hand and enclose it with your right. When Jesse makes no motion to oppose you, you close your eyes and utter, " _Kalh_ _ğem._ "

You uncover his hand and turn it palm up. A small glow emits from the center. Jesse's eyes grow wide at the words he finds gleaming on his hand.

"What is this? How did you do that?"

You chuckle. "As Sam told you. We're kind of freaks ourselves. I recorded the names of everyone who can help you. Should you ever need guidance, we would give it. The names would appear whenever you want them too. All you have to do is say the name, and you will know where to find that person."

Jesse slides his fingers across the gleaming letters as they start to fade. "Cool."

You hold out your hand again for a handshake, and Jesse readily takes it. There is a small smile on his lips again.

"I wish for your happiness, Jesse, as do your parents." When your grip turns a bit firm, Jesse looks up.

"Wherever you go, please be mindful and patient with people. You are so much bigger than them now. You will meet many who may be ignorant, mean, and foolish, but I ask that you think twice before you take action against them. …And I hope you will forgive them for their faults."

You look down and produce Castiel's figurine, clutched in your left hand all this time. Jesse follows your gaze.

"I know he made some mistakes, and ironically lacks faith. But he really _is_ good. And I'm sorry he attacked you. I really am… but I _love_ him and I need him back."

Jesse stares at you wordlessly. You know your emotions are heavy for a boy his age to comprehend, but you've always believed that children have a much stronger maturity than most give them credit for.

After a while, Jesse lowers his head in a nod, and you close your eyes in relief.

"Thank you."

You stand up and walk to the door. Before you close it behind you, you give him one last encouraging smile. "Goodbye, Jesse. I have faith in you, and your parents would be so, so proud of you."

He returns your smile and nods again.

You close the door and feel his energy disappear a moment later. You let out a long sigh.

A minute elapses before you feel a familiar angelic presence behind you and your left hand now empty. You take a deep breath. Bracing yourself, you turn around to face Castiel.

Back in his fully realized form, he stands rigidly in front of you. You hesitantly meet his eyes, expecting nothing short of rage to be directed your way. You lose your breath when you read the emotions behind his cerulean gaze.

Nowhere is there anger, only an ocean of a much deeper and warmer sentiment.

Your lips draw into a grateful smile, and you let out a breathless sigh. "Cass…" You want to throw your arms around him.

Hurried footsteps rush up the stairs, and your locked gazes are broken by the appearance of the two brothers.

"Cass! You're back to normal!" Sam looks from the angel to you with bewilderment.

"We thought you guys were taking a long time." Dean says as he rounds the railings toward you. "Is Jesse okay?"

"He's gone." Castiel answers.

You look at the angel. His attention is currently given to the elder brother, but you don't sense any resentment. Perhaps some resignation.

Sam hurries to the door behind you and you quickly step out of the way to make room. He turns the knob and pushes the door inwards, revealing the vacancy inside. He turns back to the angel. "Where?"

"I don't know. Jesse put everyone in town back to normal. The ones still alive. Then he vanished."

Sam turns back to scan the room. Dean on the other hand is watching you. You return his curious gaze with an unwavering one. The hunter rubs the back of his head and sighs.

"Hey." Sam reaches down to pick up something off the bed. It's a note.

Dean nods towards the paper, prompting the man to read it. "What does it say?"

Sam unfolds the loose leaf, the creases of his brow deepening as he scans the details.

"That he had to leave to keep his parents safe. That he loves them and he's sorry."

You quietly watch the angel's expression. You don't know what to make of his reaction to Jesse's note. The man looks weary, and he remains taciturn.

"How do we find him?" Dean asks.

"With the boy's powers, we can't. Not unless he wants to be found."

Sam's shoulders fall. With no other choice, he places the note back onto the bed.

"You really think it was a good idea to tell 'im to go?"

Your eyes fly to Dean, surprised he was able to decipher so much.

Sam is looking shocked. His attention dances between you and his brother, and you're consciously aware of Castiel's gaze on you.

"He turned everyone back to normal, didn't he?" Your vision slides to the surfing poster across the bed. "Rather than becoming a weapon in a war he couldn't understand, he chose to remain impartial and went into hiding. He's already more mature than most adults."

Dean sighs again. He really _is_ tired. "Truth be told; I doubt we would've been able to keep Jesse with us for long. For a kid who can do and have anything, staying in an old moldy house with nothing but training and lore all day probably wouldn't have sat well with him. This just saves us a lot of wasted effort." He turns and starts toward the stairs again. "C'mon. We might as well get this mess cleaned and leave before his parents wake up and freak out."

You're grateful for Dean's vote of confidence.

Sam passes you a shrug, and the four of you move down the steps. You can tell the man is relieved, but also a little sad to see Jesse gone. After the little heart to heart they had, Sam must have felt a connection with Jesse.

You peer over to Castiel. The angel's complexion is brooding, and you can't glean his thoughts. You're anxious and you want so badly to talk with him alone.

While the brothers were busy putting all the furniture and random objects dropped in Jesse's fit of anger back in place, you are muttering incantations to fix the two doors that were knocked apart. After transporting Julia back to her own residence, Castiel too, is now picking up the books that were shaken out of the nearby shelves.

Just as you're finished up with the last bolt on the door, your vision starts to blur. Everything leans in one direction. You blink and reach for the wall for support.

"Are you all right?"

You look up to find Castiel suddenly next to you. Instead of using the wall for support, your wrist is caught in his hold. His other hand steadies you from the shoulder.

You blink again. Everything is normal once more.

Castiel's worried face makes you smile. "Sorry. I'm fine. Just a dizzy spell. Probably because I'm tired."

The angel slowly lets you go, but his concern remains. "Maybe you should sit down."

Sam and Dean have also stopped what they were doing.

"Yeah, take it easy." Sam asserts. "We know you've been through a lot lately. Cass told us about your merge. Plus, you just used your powers on Julia. We can take care of the rest of the menial stuff."

"Yeah." Dean adds as he tosses a cushion onto the couch. "Don't push yourself too hard. You'll have plenty of chances to do that later."

You grin wryly at all the attention you're receiving, but feeling grateful nonetheless. If you were alone with the angel right now, you would have kissed him to show that his worries were needless.

"Really guys, I'm fi-"

A ringing sounds from your jacket, making everyone jump. You quickly snatch the device to look at who's calling. You gulp when you see the name.

"Jeez. Almost gave me a heart attack. Put that thing on vibrate when we're breaking and entering would ya?"

You send the others an apologetic look before you accept the call and bring it to your ear.

"Hello-"

[WHERE ARE YOU?]

You pull the phone away from you.

In the background you hear Dean mutter "who is that?". Sam only replies with "I dunno".

You clear your throat, mentally preparing yourself for the tongue lashing you're about to receive. "Hi. Maggie. There was a situation I had to deal with- but everything's fine now."

[WHERE. ARE. YOU?]

You cringe. It's been a while since Maggie sounded this stern with you. "Alliance, Nebraska." You answer in a small voice.

[Christ, Alice! I wrote down specifically telling you NOT to leave the island! It's dangerous to use your powers right after your merge! You still need A LOT of rest and meditation to access your powers safely! You better get your butt back here right now!]

"Somebody's in trouble." You catch Dean muttering in a singsong way to Sam, who only purses his lips at his immature brother.

You narrow your eyes at the hunter, wondering if you should send a book at his head. Feeling Maggie's simmering exasperation through the phone, you hurry to respond.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll be right there."

There is an appeased sigh. [Good. See you soon, Alice.]

 _Beep._

Your shoulder drops after Maggie disconnected the line. Letting out a harrowing breath, you look to Castiel with a sheepish expression. No doubt the angel heard everything. You didn't mean to lie to him about Maggie's note, you simply didn't think it was cause for needless worry. Although… now that she's said it. This might explain the dizziness and double vision.

Castiel casts a reprimanding scrutiny at your shamefaced appearance.

You lower your gaze. "Sorry. I really didn't think her warning was necessary. And given the circumstances…"

After you trail off, the angel just sighs. But what mortifies you even more is to feel the entertained expressions of the two brothers as you give your apology.

The angel sends a stern look to the men, who immediately swivel in the opposite direction to busy themselves.

"Given the circumstances, and the danger we're already facing, it would be wise if you would tell me the truth in the future, so as to not augment unnecessary risks."

You lower your head even more under his admonition. Castiel is right after all.

"You need to be more mindful of your wellbeing, Alice."

You peer up to find his expression has softened, almost pleading. You're completely defeated and ashamed of yourself. You didn't realize you've grown so cocky. "Sorry. I will."

Castiel straightens, having accepted your apology.

You swallow, looking sideways. You feel reluctant for asking. "So… do you think…"

Castiel nods. Although his visage remains solemn, there is a sliver of amusement sparking in his eyes.

Just as you're turning towards the boys, Sam is a step ahead of you. His mouth twitches, just barely hiding his enjoyment.

"You can go ahead. We're pretty much finished anyways."

"Yeah. Have fun casting spells and brewing potions." Dean prods you with a sneering grin. "Or whatever it is you Whikky people do."

"It's _Wikkōn-._ " You stop short of your retort, shaking your head and wondering why you even bother correcting him. You force yourself to swallow your pride. You were in the wrong today. You could have put yourself and possibly even your friends in danger. You ought to act more humble. "…But thanks. I'll see you guys hopefully soon."

Dean gives you a smirk and a wave while Sam nods amicably.

You turn towards Castiel, signaling your readiness. The angel offers the two men a curt dip of his head before vanishing together with you.

…

When you open your eyes again, you find yourself back in the pristine interiors of Maggie's cottage. You swallow, and look about the room, searching the space for Maggie's presence. When you can't seem to pick up her energy signature, you let out a sigh of relief. It seems your friend hasn't arrived yet.

"Alice."

You look up.

Castiel's gaze has not left you since you arrived, and his appearance now comes across as pensive. You search his eyes. The colors have darkened in his deep thoughts. You wonder what about.

"I'm sorry."

You blink, eyes widening. "Why?"

Castiel casts his vision downward, a picture of self-reproach. "I should have trusted your judgement…. I never considered the possibility of the crea-." He cuts off, frowning. "Jesse." He corrects himself. "…Refusing the demon's offer. Although I am still unsure if leaving the boy alone is the right decision."

Your eyes brim with emotion at the angel's admission. You reach a hand towards his face, your fingers brushing soft against his warm skin. Castiel closes his eyes and leans into your touch, making you smile.

"Jesse will make mistakes as all humans do, even if he is part demon. But I _know_ , ultimately, he will be fine."

When the angel opens his eyes again, you feel yourself drawn in. The raw liquid heat in his gaze melts your insides, and you're distinctly aware of how close your face is to his. Had you moved? You don't remember.

Castiel breathes out and you feel the breath roll across your cheeks.

"I am perpetually in awe of your unwavering trust in humanity. I don't know how you continuously have such faith in them."

Your hand falls to his chest, and you feel his steady heartbeat underneath. "I suppose it's because despite everything that's happened, I still love them… and I believe in their virtues." You lift your head, peering straight into the angel's eyes. "And when you love someone, you accept their flaws and all."

You can see something stir behind his gaze, something that's inciting turbulence.

"There is another matter I wanted to ask." Castiel says. The slight tension lining his jaw does not escape your notice.

"What is it?"

"When the boy had me turned into a toy… though I couldn't move, I was still aware."

Your brow twitches, but you wait for him to continue.

"Did you mean what you said?"

The man is earnest in his question, and your response seems to matter a great deal.

You swallow uncomfortably, wondering how you should phrase your answer so as to not offend. Your expression turns meek, and the change seems to set the angel on edge.

"In my defense, everyone makes mistakes and has moments of doubt…"

There is a brief flash of confusion before Castiel quickly shakes his head. "Not about that. What you said after. You said that… you… love me."

Heat immediately floods your cheeks, and you begin to stammer. "O-of course!" Although the response carries much certainty, your voice is smaller and an octave higher than normal. "Didn't I already tell you… how I felt… a week ago when we were by the spring." Your words trail to near a timid grumble, and your eyes fall to his chest, too flushed to finish the sentence holding his gaze.

"Is that what that was?"

You glare into his chest, still unable to look at the angel. Is he teasing you? You didn't even know he _could_ tease.

"I didn't realize angels had such poor memories." You mumble at his chest, face still flushed.

Castiel places a hand under your chin and steers your face back to his.

Your heart is drumming like a hummingbird's at his touch. If you blush anymore you feel like your head might explode.

His eyes darken as he takes control of all you see. There is a certain sensuous feel to the way his molten gaze peers down at you. You can't seem to feel the gravity anymore. You wonder if he even knows what he's doing to you right now.

"I didn't realize…" Castiel breathes out.

"What?" Your voice is weak.

His lips curl at the sight of you… a slightly triumphant smile. "For some reason… hearing you say those words… makes me feel..."

His words draw you in, one by one, as if a cord is wound around you, tugging towards him at his leisure. You're so close. Your lips are an instance away from his.

"…So happy."

Your breath is caught in your throat, and your heart wrenches. His sound sends your mind into a lightheaded tizzy. You bite down on your lower lip and look away. You can't remember the last time you were ever this embarrassed… and this _euphoric._

"Why do you do that?"

You feel his thumb brush against your cheek, shooting shivers down your spine.

"Do what?" You try to keep your voice level.

"Whenever your cheeks turn red, you start to look away."

You sneak a glance at him from the corner of your vision. The mirth in his eyes tells you he's enjoying himself at your expense, but the angel is genuinely curious of your behaviour.

"I-it's because I'm embarrassed, of course."

Castiel's brow raises, sincerely baffled. "Why?"

"Because…" You turn back to him, struggling to find your words. "Saying these things… is…"

He lowers his face to yours, and your thoughts begin to dissipate.

"…i-is… intimate…"

His lips just barely graze yours. "Intimate…?" he repeats.

You start to lose your breath again. "…and it makes you… makes me… feel…" What are you trying to say?

"…Feel...?" Castiel repeats again, and the sound washes over your mind like strong wine.

Unable to hold yourself, you press into him with all the desperation of a drowning victim seeking warmth. You drink in his kisses like they were air. Fortunately, the angel is all too willing to comply, sliding his arms to your back and waist, pulling you closer.

Reality disappears. And all you can feel, all you can hear, sense, touch, taste… is Castiel…

"Well, don't stop on my account."

You jolt and skip back at the sudden interruption, only to be pulled around behind the angel's back.

Castiel glares at the female intruder with his blade brandished. When he realizes who the woman is, the weapon vanishes and the protective rigidity in your sentry eases back.

There is an amused look on Maggie's face as she appraises the angel in the middle of the room. When you finally step out from Castiel's shadow, she shoots you an expectant look.

You pull and knead at your fingers. The heat is still coursing rampantly through your veins.

"Hi, Maggie. Sorry again." You clear your throat. "When did you get back?" You're feeling quite abashed as she watches you, while also puzzled by your own behavior. It's not as though you needed her permission.

Castiel, on the other hand, is looking mildly aggravated by her presence, and possibly her interruption. Your blush deepens.

Maggie lets out a snort and walks towards the bar table. She takes one of the crystal bottles sitting atop a silver stand and an upside down glass before pouring herself a drink. The liquid is the color of golden caramel, but with an odd sliver of blue flowing in the middle. The aroma emitting from the bottle is sweet and reminds you of winter's chill.

"Only a while ago." Maggie finally responds as she brings the glass to her lips. Her eyes flicker to Castiel. After taking a sip, she sets the drink on the counter and smirks. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr _. Angel of the Lord_. Welcome to my cottage."

You blink, mentally smacking yourself. "Err, right." You catch Castiel's eye and gesture sheepishly towards your friend. "Cass, this is Maggie. And Maggie, this is Castiel."

Castiel's gaze flits from yours to Maggie's before holding her gaze. He nods his head graciously. "Thank you for rescuing Alice from Zachariah."

Maggie props up an elbow against the counter and relaxes onto the bar stool closest to her. "Was no trouble really." As she moves to take another empty glass from the counter, she slips a furtive glance at the angel. "Might I offer you anything?" She takes the crystal bottle and pours the sweet smelling liquid into the new glass. "This is faerie wine from the Apainn a' Geamhradh. It's quite refreshing." She holds the glass towards the angel.

Castiel stares passively at the gesture. "Actually, I should leave." When he turns to you again, his expression becomes tender. "I'll be back later tonight."

"Not if you want her to concentrate and finish her training." Maggie interrupts, setting the drink back.

Castiel frowns.

"He can't come back?" You can't hide your genuine disappointment.

Maggie's lips twitch, and she quickly clears her throat. A sound that seems oddly like a laugh.

"You need time and focus to integrate what you have taken inside you." She raises a hand to support her chin, severity overtaking her voice. "Now that you have all your memories intact, you have also been granted access to an exorbitant amount of power. And it is my job to show you how to access that power and knowledge without damage. You're a ticking time bomb if you continue without control. But to master everything will require you to devote all your attentions **here**. Presently." She notices the grim look on both your faces. "For a while. So unless it's an emergency, until I say otherwise: no interference whatsoever."

Castiel appears unsure. He looks to you, waiting for your decision.

You sigh, staring longingly at the angel. "I guess I'll call you when I'm done."

His eyes narrow a fraction. "Are you sure?"

You give a reluctant nod. "This is important if we want to stop Lucifer."

Castiel's gaze darkens with thought. Finally, he obliges you with a nod of his own. "Call me, and I will arrive at once." He turns to Maggie. "Take care of her." Though the words appear to be of acknowledgment, there is a thinly veiled hint of caution in his voice.

Maggie's eyes shine at the challenge.

Castiel holds your gaze one more time. Every inch of you crave to touch him, but you root yourself to the ground. A second later, your angel vanishes and the space around you seems immediately colder.

Maggie blows out a puff of air. "He's a little overprotective, isn't he?"

You give a wry smile as the woman walks over to you with both glasses in her hands. She holds the newly poured glass for you to take.

"Drink. It'll help you relax before we start the final phase in mastering your powers."

You stare at the shimmering liquor.

The you of your _Wikkōn_ past was never much of a drinker, always preferred tranquil gatherings to your friend's more festive ones. The you of _this life,_ however, is much more unbridled.

Haven't tasted alcohol in quite a while and given the amount of outrageous experiences you lived through as of late, you feel you more than deserve a taste of reckless indulgence. Faerie wine, as you remember, is extremely potent. Just a whiff from your glass would be able to knock Sam and Dean into a drunken stupor.

You snatch the drink and down the entire glass in one gulp. The wine burns down your throat, a perfect blend of smoothness and spice. The taste resembles fresh plums and a sweetness from fruits you've never tasted before. Once the burn dissolves, a chill flushes through your insides.

You pass the glass back to Maggie, and the woman is looking quite impressed.

"It seems human life has made you more daring." She smirks. "Very becoming." She turns around and downs her own drink before setting them in the sink.

"Now then, it's time I show you where we'll be staying for the next few days."

* * *

HOLY SHIT, WHAT A LONG CHAPTER! Hope you all enjoy!

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!


	17. To Carry a Burden

Thanks SO MUCH to Slothplatoon, 88dragon06, and Awerry for your reviews! You guys have NO IDEA how much they keep me going! TwT Please keep them coming!

Now... Onto the story.

* * *

"I'm a little surprised at you, Alice."

You look up at Maggie just as she passes you a curious glance.

The two of you left the cottage behind a while ago, and are now walking down a steep path formed by rugged slates jutting from the earth. Despite the slippery terrain, coated with wet moss and sodden grass, neither of you are impeded in your descent.

"What about?" You ask.

"I never thought I'd see you together with an angel. Not like _that_ , anyway."

You push back the heat crawling to your cheeks.

"But then again, you were always singular in your proclivities."

The edges of your brow crease. "What do you mean?"

Maggie slows down a bit for you to catch up. When you're next to her at a matching pace, you notice her forehead is furrowed in thought. "Well, for one. If it weren't for you, none of the _Wikkōn_ would bother with this planet anymore-"

"I meant why my relationship with Castiel would be a surprise."

She raises her brows at you. "Because **he** is an _angel_. And the angels and the _Wikkōn_ don't exactly have an amicable history."

Your confusion grows. "I don't understand. We've fought together with the angels against Lucifer and his demons. They even aided us when we…" You pause. The memories of the ghastly past rumble through your mind and you grimace. "…When we had to fight against our own kind."

"And did you forget who it was that started all this? Despite humans calling him otherwise, Lucifer was and still is an angel. And the rest only sees to use us to forward their own inclinations. You yourself provided proof of that when Zachariah brought you to the future."

There is a sharpness to her voice, and you find yourself unable to defend the other angels. Not to mention you still harbor some resentment towards heaven for their recent activities. Your expression thaws when Castiel's face passes through your mind. You can't seem to associate his existence with the other celestials. He's such a singular being. Yes, Castiel is an angel, but he's also so much more….

"The angels, heaven, and hell. They're all still necessary for everything to survive. And besides. Not all angels are the same. Castiel rebelled-"

"As did Lucifer."

When Maggie realizes you're no longer next to her, she turns around to see why you've stopped. Catching your expression, she breaks out in a laugh. Your glower only deepens.

"I know they're different. I'm just teasing."

You're mildly appeased as you approach her, but your tone still holds a slight bite. "Humans too, and even some demons, I believe."

Maggie quirks a brow.

"Different in some respects and the same in others." You elaborate, now on equal footing as your friend.

Maggie sighs, a surrendering look on her face. "Either way, I tend to find the angels all to be rather... one track-minded." She concluded with a flourish of her hand. "Oh well, I suppose I might meet an angel that'll curry my favor."

You blink in surprise. "I thought you didn't like angels."

She smirks. "I enjoy the taste of new things. Live merry and love lots, I always say." She puts a hand on her hip. "Didn't I tell you I was revered as the Medb Goddess of Love for a time by the humans?"

You lower your gaze at her. "I thought Medb was the goddess of lust."

"Tomato, to- _mah_ -to!" Maggie spins around and motions her hand at the twist of branches and vines behind her. Upon a closer look, you realize the vines are covering a yawning entrance deep into the mountain.

With a flick of your wrist, the wooden arms and green trails part, clearing the opening for you.

Maggie gestures towards the cave with a cat like grin.

Stepping through its mouth, you feel an invisible barrier pass through your form. Since this island is untouched by humans, you posit it must be made to keep unsuspecting animals or other creatures out.

As you and Maggie travel further into its depth, the light begins to fade. Had it not been for your _Wikkōn_ vision, you would be stumbling blindly in the dark.

You feel a shift from the woman beside you, and blooms of tiny lights fill your vision. Fluorescent colors of varying blues, emeralds and violet illuminate your surroundings. It takes another second for you to realize the glows are from a strange species of mushroom you've never seen before. They're abundant in quantity, and are scattered along the entire circumference of the tunnel, lighting your way and presenting a breathtaking view.

You turn to Maggie with surprise, and she grins approvingly at your reaction. Once the initial awe wears off, you continue down the path, examining the beautiful pulsing glow as you go.

Eventually, you arrive at an opening, emerging under a gigantic dome made of glistening stone. The space is dark and devoid of glowing mushrooms. Despite its emptiness, you can feel the room is filled with vibrant energy.

"We're about a mile underneath the mountain." Maggie steps next to you. "As you can tell this place is heavily enchanted. No one will be able to find or bother us here."

Your eyes land on two seat cushions placed approximately a meter across from each other in the middle of the dome. Maggie gestures for you to sit.

You tread lightly across the dirt floor, feeling for any peculiarities. Once you reach one of the cushions, you sit down.

Maggie lowers herself to the seat in front of you, crossing her legs.

"Why did you choose that cushion and not this one?" There is a playful gleam in her eyes as she asks you.

You raise a brow. "They're both the same, I just chose one."

Her lips spread into a knowing smile. "Is it?"

At your puzzled expression, she takes your right hand and presses your palm to the ground in front of you.

"What do you feel?"

You glance down from Maggie's face to your hand. You decide to push your uncertainty aside and follow her instructions. You spread your fingers wide against the earth, closing your eyes to focus on the sensations.

"It feels soft, and warm, and homelike."

"Keep your eyes closed, and remember that feeling. Now move your hand closer towards my side."

Your palm slides forward, and after a few inches, you notice a change.

"What do you feel?"

Your brows clinch, honing in on the strange sensation. "I feel heat, energy and excitement… possibly danger?"

"Open your eyes."

And you do.

You gasp at the sight around you.

Running along the entirety of the dome walls and floors are brilliant markings of two colors. Emerald greens meet fiery oranges, splitting the dome down the middle by an invisible line. The markings travel under your cushions, stopping millimeters when they meet the division of color.

"I had this room prepared so we can be completely surrounded by our element."

"Our element?"

Maggie nods. "Though no one knows how or why, we, _Wikkōn_ , are born from the world. And while we are able to use all of the elements, there will always be one with which each of us will feel an affinity. Yours is Earth and life. Mine is Fire and Energy. The remaining two are Air and Breath, Water and Soul." Maggie inclines her head towards you, her gaze hardening. "Now listen carefully, for what I am about to say is important. In order for the world to be replenished, each one of us would be essential. If the planet was dying, it cannot be saved with just one of us."

Your shoulders tense.

"Which means, since you _did not_ find our bodies frozen in stone next to yours, it is possible that your transformation was only temporary, and the world you saw may not be as destroyed as you thought." She holds out a hand to still you.

"But keep in mind, our primary focus is _this_ world. We can talk about the future after you finish your training."

You take a deep breath to calm yourself. "All right. Please continue."

Maggie nods approvingly. "I believe the angels are only aware that we, _Wikkōn_ , act as conduits for Earth's energy, a set of back-up batteries in other words. But after our oaths, our ability to absorb and keep Earth's essence grew multiple folds."

Maggie passes a hand in front of her, sparking strings of heat and light in its wake. The orange threads spin and melt into one another, knitting a rotating three-dimensional image of the planet.

"Take this, for example."

One of the strings breaks out from the edge of the sphere, molding into the form of a small figure rooted to its surface.

"As conduits, the energy of all life on Earth will travel through our bodies, and as _Wikkōn_ , we have an ability to deposit that energy within our bodies."

A small circle appears behind the figure, tethered to its shoulder. You watch as a large spark makes its way along the lines of the planet, through the figure and into the circle, making it slightly bigger.

"A normal _Wikkōn_ will allow the energy to flow back, keeping the supply only for a short amount of time. But for us, we have to maintain our burden constantly."

More sparks appear, feeding into the circle and enlarging its frame.

"It is a lot of power at our disposal, which is why we are so burdened by it. It's not in our nature to seek such things, and if it wasn't for the goal of protecting our home, we never would have taken such a task."

You dip your head, taking in her words with solemnity. The things Maggie tells you ring with a certain familiarity, but you can't help but feel distraught at how much you've forgotten despite having all your memories intact. You're grateful for her recount and you wonder what else she has uncovered during these last thousand years.

Maggie's gaze meets yours.

"And now it's time for you to connect yourself to that power. Since you've been locked away in a human body for so long, you have been cut off from the transfer of energy. But now that you're a full-fledged _Wikkōn_ again you need to learn how to use it.

You square your shoulders. "I'm ready."

She nods. "Close your eyes."

You do as you're told.

"Find your center and fall back into yourself… back to the deepest layers of your consciousness. …Deeper and deeper until you're in the very core…"

Like being drawn back through a tunnel, Maggie's voice drifts further and further away. You continue to withdraw into yourself, your senses shrouding in the process. You can feel yourself sinking, deeper and deeper into the depths of your mind. Peaceful dark surrounds you, drawing your awareness to a drowse. Eventually, the descent starts to slow, and little by little, you can feel the bottom drawing closer.

In the void, your feet touch solid ground. The feel is smooth and cold, as if you're standing on black glass.

"… _Are you at the bottom…?"_

You turn your head upwards. Through the void, though small and faraway, you can still hear her words quite clearly.

"Yes." You reply.

" _…_ _What do you see…?"_

You glance around the darkness, seeing nothing. Just as you're about to respond, a tiny spark flashes beneath your feet. You drop to your knees to get a better look. The spark shines, ever so small and distant. Your palms push against the dark glass, lowering yourself even further. The spark seems to grow in size, bigger and brighter until you realize it's not a spark at all. It is an orb, beaming with light and rising steadily to the surface. The glass beneath your feet warms as the orb approaches. You push yourself up and watch as the blazing sphere slides past the glass to hover inches before you. You begin to reach out to it, your hands floating at either side. The orb is no larger than a tennis ball, but its light is so intense you think you may go blind.

"It's so hot. Like a small sun."

 _"…_ _That is Earth's essence. You have to accept it. Take it into yourself…"_

You hesitatingly bring your hands to touch the orb, finding the sensation a bit tingly. When there is no obvious discomfort, you start to pull it towards your chest. The moment it touches your center do you start to feel the heat. The glow intensifies, escalating the temperature to near unbearable proportions. You grimace.

"It's burning me."

 _"…_ _You have to push on. This is your burden alone. The pain will fade once you have fully absorbed it…"_

You redouble your efforts, using all your strength to push it into yourself. The fire singes your heart, seeping wave after wave of white, hot agony through you. You gasp out when the last of it disappears inside you, sending forth one last slice to your nerves.

And as quickly as the heat came, it disappears. Your chest rises and falls, taking in the air in deep gasps. Still reeling, you can feel the immense power swim through you. Your mind dances with energy, shooting electric sensations through your nerves. It's rapturous and revitalizing, as if you're being reborn...

"You can open your eyes, Alice."

You feel vertigo, as if you're being wrenched to the surface. The clarity and closeness of Maggie's voice is jarring, shaking you back into reality while your consciousness finally settles.

Your eyes fly open, catching their amber glow reflecting in your friend's gaze. She smirks at you, but it's not her face that's holding your attention.

All around you, what previously covered your half of the dome with shimmering green markings is now replaced with thick, teeming plant life. The vines and roots crawl from the floor to curl up along the walls and ceiling just until they meet the orange markings. Following the green trails, flowers of various sizes bloom color and light into the dome, with the largest quantity amassing near you.

You drink in their beauty and breathe in their scent, relishing the crisp aroma.

"Welcome back. How do you feel?"

You look from Maggie's smile to your hands. "Different? Energized? I'm not sure what word to use." You glance up at her. "So it's done then. I'm free to use my abilities without repercussion?"

Maggie chuckles and stands up from her seat. "Yep. You're all ready. C'mon, it's about time we got out of this grimy old cave." She offers you her hand to take, pulling you up when you accept it.

You give her an odd look. "But we've only been here for about an hour. I thought you said the process would take longer.

Your friend snorts. "Honey, we've been here for eight days."

Your eyes pop.

Maggie laughs. "Time feels different when you're under."

Eight days! You haven't been in contact with Castiel or the brothers in eight days! You wonder if they're all right. You know Castiel would be worried. You feel like all you've been doing lately is making him wait.

"I've gotta go!" You hurry towards the exit, urging Maggie to follow.

"Calm down!" She says as she catches up to you. "I'm sure they're fine. But if you want to call the angel, you gotta wait until we're outside the mountain, or else he won't be able to hear you."

At her words, you break into a run, not even bothering to look at the glowing mushrooms you so enjoyed. You know your speed has increased, and before long, you've arrived outside the tunnel. Sunlight blazes into your irises, and you blink to adjust. Maggie is only two steps behind, fully reaching the exit just as you cry out Castiel's name.

"I know you're excited and all to see him, but don't you think a bath first would be a good idea?"

Maggie's words fall on deaf ears as you glance around you. Castiel hasn't appeared. You can feel something is wrong. In a more frantic voice, you cry out his name again.

A few seconds elapse, but he still does not come.

Sam! Dean!

You fumble for your phone in your jacket, quickly dialing their numbers. You bring the phone to your ear, but all you hear is the dial tone. Anxiety mounting, you try a different number, and then another, and another until you've exhausted all their contacts with no results.

"Something's wrong. No one is picking up." You turn to Maggie with a face full of worry. "I need to find them."

Maggie looks at you expectantly. "Then go find them. What are you looking at me for? You're a full _Wikkōn_ now, you should know how to track down a mere angel or two." She closes her eyes and brings a hand to rub the bridge of her nose. "It's us _Wikkōn_ who are difficult."

You feel the urge to smack yourself. "Right." Calming down, you run through the library of spells in your mind. But you know after six thousand years, it will take you a while to remember all of them in full accuracy.

Glancing down at yourself, you quickly shed your jacket and then your shirt. You notice Maggie watching you appraisingly as you rip off the lower half of your top. Once you put your clothes back on, you raise your hand to the stone walls of the cave behind you. Finding the point of a jagged edge, you prick your finger. As the blood pools, you hover your cut over the fabric. You let two crimson drops fall before you move your hand away. The skin is already healing.

You fold the fabric once, then twice again. Bringing it towards your lips, you whisper. " _Ili_ _Castiel_."

The fabric emits a glow. Slowly, it starts to rise. Hovering in front of you, the fabric has now transformed into the shape of a bird, perching at the edge of your finger.

 _"_ _Volce."_

The linen bird glows again. In a flash, it zooms towards the sky and disappears.

You close your eyes, channeling your senses through the spell. You know you can feel Castiel's presence coming somewhere from the east. You've been able to feel his presence constantly ever since you first emerged from the springs.

A tug signals in your consciousness. The spell has located its target.

You open your eyes. "I found him."

Maggie is smiling when you turn to her. "Then what are we waiting for, let's go save your angel!" She pivots on her foot and leaps off the rocky, cavern ledge. Plunging towards the steep decline in the woods, she lands nimbly on a branch barely thicker than her leg. The branch sways under her weight, but the woman appears no more unbalanced than if she were standing on solid ground.

Maggie looks back at you with a smirk. "Try to keep up."

Without another word, she takes off, leaping from branches and stones further and further down the mountain.

You purse your lips at her blithe demeanor, but quickly chase after her. You try to follow her steps, landing unevenly at the spots she danced so easily from. You're clearly not as physically attuned and not nearly as graceful. Though you're following her at a steady pace, you're manipulating the plant life around you to provide better footing.

Before long, you realize Maggie has led you back to the spring, and when you finally arrive, the woman is standing by the spring's edge in a relaxed pose. She beckons you to approach with a wave of her hand.

"Do you remember what you're supposed to do?"

You come up beside her and look down at the shimmering waters, nodding. You take the lead and lower yourself into the water. Maggie soon follows after you.

You stare at the enchanted pool. _"Nos ad iter Si'lan,"_ you say.

The ground beneath your feet disappears and you fall in.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself submerged in an endless pool. Even as you look up, you can see no surface, and below you, no bottom. You know you're in an alternate dimension. This is the Path of Mirrors, a roadway that leads to the desired location through the bends in space.

You glance around for your friend until you finally spot her a meter behind you. Her body is enveloped in light, bringing brightness to the deep darkness in this pool.

 _Focus on where you want to go._

Although Maggie did not move her lips, you hear her directions as clearly as if she spoke them.

You nod, focusing to conjure the location in your mind.

 _"…_ _We knew it was all gonna end with you. Always…"_

 _"_ _No. That's not gonna happen."_

You jolt at the voice, turning to Maggie. _That's Dean._ You project your voice into her mind as she did hers.

 _"_ _I'm sorry, but it is. …Guys, I wish this were a TV show, easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow, but this is real and its gonna end bloody for all of us, that's just how it's gonna be."_

Your brow knits. _And someone I don't know._

Maggie dips her head. _Concentrate on the sound, and draw the reality towards you._

You latch onto the location with fervent focus.

A ripple of light appears above. The previous exchange echoes from the same light, appearing clearer and more distinct.

"So boys, now what? Stare at each other for the rest of eternity?"

Maggie grins. _Perfect._ She grabs your hand and propels upwards. The two of you break through the surface of a giant puddle, causing a large splash. Your entrance makes everyone jump.

You wipe your face of the water, pushing your hair back. You give a small flick of your hand, and the water instantly starts to flow down your body in streams, pooling down at the puddle beneath your feet. You're left dry within seconds.

Glancing across the space you notice you're in some kind of vacant warehouse. The brothers stand frozen next to each other. In front of them is a ring of holy fire. You do not recognize the man trapped within its confines, but your eyes perceive the blazing vigor of his light, its potency an equal strength to a certain archangel you had the misfortune of meeting.

"Hey boys." Maggie steps forward to greet the three men. You notice a small trail of steam emitting around her skin, having evaporated all the water that previously clung to her.

Your eyes move from one dumbfounded expression to the next. "Sam, Dean." You run your gaze around the warehouse, searching for your angel. "Where's Cass?"

Dean finally blinks. "What? How? Where did you-?" He shakes his head. "Whatever! I'll deal with that later." He turns back to the man trapped in the holy fire, effectively snapping everyone back on task.

"First of all, you're going to bring Cass back from wherever you stashed him."

You scrutinize the Winchester's prisoner. The man may not be as tall as your two male companions, but he still overtakes your height by a few inches. His clothes aren't noteworthy, appearing quite similar to the outfits you see Sam and Dean wear. His face is imp-like. With a gaunt jaw and copper hair swept back, the sneer on his face only accentuates the shrewd bearing he gives off. Of the four archangels, you have already met three. So that just leaves one more. Gabriel.

"Oh am I?"

You narrow your eyes at the seraph.

"Or we're gonna dunk you in some holy oil and deep-fry ourselves an archangel."

Gabriel's lips twitch downward. Pushing back a scowl, he reluctantly brings up his hand and snaps his fingers.

There is an electric spark in the air and you feel a distinct tear in the space around you. The next second, Castiel materializes a few feet left of the brothers, having been pulled from whatever dimension he was caged in and thrown back into this reality. Other than a few scratches and looking ready to kill, he seems relatively unharmed.

Your shoulders fall in relief.

The angel catches your gaze from across the room, momentarily distracted.

"Cass, you okay?" Dean asks.

Castiel's gaze doesn't leave yours, but the previous stupor disappears. "I'm fine." He scrutinizes your face and body. When he seems satisfied, he slides his eyes back towards Gabriel. His expression immediately turns scathing. "Hello, Gabriel."

"Hey, bro. How's the search for daddy going? Let me guess. Awful."

At best, the exchange between the two celestial brothers seem less than amicable.

You and Maggie advance to join the group.

"What happened?" You ask when you're next to Dean.

The man shakes his head. "Tell you all about it later. But for now, we're outta here." He turns towards the set of doors a few meters behind him. "Come on, Sam."

As the brothers walk away, you send a curious look back to the archangel. Castiel walks towards you and hovers a hand next to your arm, urging you to follow him. Still confused, you glance at Maggie.

Looking otherwise amused, she simply shrugs and moves accordingly towards the same exit.

"Uh, okay?" Gabriel voices, his pitch sounding unsure. "Guys, so what, huh? You're just gonna… you're just gonna leave me here forever?"

You glance back by the door. Sam is already half way out, but Dean has stopped.

He turns to face the archangel once more. "No, we're not. 'Cause we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record, this isn't about some prizefight between your brothers, or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family." His hand snakes forward, forcing you to step back. He reaches past you and smashes his hand over the glass covering the fire alarm to pull the lever. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

The heavy, metal door slams closed behind you when you exit, allowing you a brief glimpse of the archangel standing under the pelting spray of water. His earlier smugness is gone, leaving behind a haggard and weary face.

A few seconds later, the archangel's presence disappears altogether.

You feel Maggie lay a hand on your shoulder. "What did I say? One track mind." She whispers into your ear.

You shoot her a wry look before turning to Castiel. "Are you all right?"

The injuries on his face are already healing. The only thing that hurts seems to be his pride. His face softens when he looks at you. "I'm fine."

"So you're finished with your little training?" Dean asks.

The Impala is parked just outside the exit and the man is now leaning over its hood. His brother is standing idly by the front passenger door.

You smile at him. "Yeah."

Dean jerks his head towards Maggie. "Who's she?"

"Right." You gesture towards your friend. You keep forgetting to introduce her. "This is Maggie, she's the one who saved me from Zachariah." You pause, remembering. "And Dean, you've actually met her before." Switching to Maggie, you say, "This is Dean and that's Sam." You point at the brothers. "They're the hunters I've been working with."

Dean makes a face. "When was this?"

Maggie smirks, placing a hand at her hip. "He probably has problems remembering because he wasn't looking at my face the last time we met."

Sam sends his brother a weird look, to which Dean shrugs, equally clueless.

You sigh. "The night I caught you bringing Cass to that call house?"

Castiel tenses next to you while recognition dawns in Dean's eyes.

Sam raises an amused brow at his brother. "You brought Cass to a brothel?"

"It's a long story, okay? We thought it was gonna be his last day on Earth. Anyway, nothing happened."

Sam shoots him a look, demanding that his brother tell him all about it later. Dean gives a subtle but reassuring nod of his head. He then turns back to Maggie, putting forward the smile you usually seem him give when he's trying to chat up women at the bar. "Hey, there. Didn't recognize you. It was, uh… dark the last time we met."

Maggie winks at him, and you shake your head. Dean is incorrigible, but your friend just _had_ to encourage him.

You decide to bring the group back to focus. "You guys mind explaining what happened?"

Dean straightens. "Right, but uh, how about we get out of here first. We'll talk back at the motel."

"And that's my cue." Maggie whirls around to leave. "Sorry, Alice, but I don't go _near_ motels." She says with a wrinkle in her nose. "You and the boys have fun."

"Where are you going?" You ask.

"Still have two other guardians we gotta find, right? I've already located one of them. I'll busy myself with that for now."

You blink in surprise. "Shouldn't I come with you?"

Maggie shakes her head. "Stay. You just finished swallowing up a sun, remember? Take the time to relax for a while. God knows we don't have much of those chances left. I'll notify you as soon as something happens."

Your shoulders sag helplessly. "Thanks."

Maggie begins to walk away, but not before giving everyone a wave.

"Guardians? Swallowing a sun? What the hell kind of training have you been up to?" Dean asks, bewildered.

You sigh again, rubbing the bridge between your eyes. "Let's get going. I've got a lot to tell you." You look to Castiel. "You're probably gonna want to hear this too."

* * *

Please READ AND REVIEW!


	18. To Love and to Hope

**THANK YOU 88dragon06 AND SlothPlatoon for your continuous reviews! I'd give both of you a big KISS if I could! Your feedback is VERY much needed!**

* * *

During the drive back to the motel, you and Castiel sat in the back seats while the brothers explained all they've encountered for the past eight days. Apparently, Sam and Dean had quite a bit of excitement while you were away.

Only two days after you left, the two men came across a series of people who died from mysterious rapid aging. They discovered the cause to be a warlock. The victims were lured to play a poker game where they gambled their lives on the chance that they can prolong their youth. There were a few victors, but most perished, and the years they lost were taken to extend the immortality of the warlock himself.

Things got complicated when they asked Bobby for help. To your chagrin, the man had tried to play the game in hopes of regaining the use of his legs. He didn't succeed. To make matters worse, Dean also played against the warlock in order to win back the years Bobby lost, effectively turning himself into an old man when he failed.

"You should've seen them." Sam's gaze shines with laughter. "It was like watching two grumpy old men."

Deans scowls at his brother. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It would've been just as bad for you if you lost."

"But I didn't."

"Sheer dumb luck."

Before Sam can retaliate, you cut in.

"I'm sorry. I wish I was there. I could have saved you all a lot of trouble." Your hands clench the jean fabric over your knees, feeling somehow responsible for Bobby's continual hardship. You know your uncanny luck would have won Bobby back his years right away.

"Don't worry about it." Sam says. "Everything turned out fine in the end."

You catch his consoling gaze and nod. "What happened next?"

"Nothing. We couldn't kill the bastard, even with his lady's help. He's probably still wandering around somewhere." Dean shrugs. "We'll get him if he ever lands on our radar again."

"You're not worried he's going to keep taking more lives?" You ask.

"The victims knew the risks of the game before they played." Castiel adds from next to you. "His misdeeds are of little concern in light of Armageddon."

The angel is right, and you turn back to the brothers for them to finish their recount.

Sam starts to speak again. "After that, we had a break for a while. Spent our days trying to find the Colt or anything else supernatural. We found a case in this town yesterday about a weird homicide and came to investigate."

"Turned out it was a setup by the same pain-in-the-ass trickster we thought we killed like three times."

You can hear Dean grit his teeth.

"Trickster?" You ask.

"Gabriel." Castiel answers for you. "He had disappeared from heaven so long ago I thought he perished. To think he was hiding on Earth all this time." The angel creases his brows with closed eyes and shakes his head. "With the illusion he cast to mask his energy, I couldn't even recognize him. The potency of his own illusions gave him away in the end. They were far too powerful for any mere trickster to create. Gabriel was creating entire dimensions."

You swallow, being reminded once again of how powerful the archangels are. You reorganize your thoughts. "I don't understand. Why did an archangel like Gabriel try to ambush you? What's your relationship?"

"Relationship?" Dean shoots you a blanched look from the rearview mirror. "There is **no** relationship. The number of headaches we had to go through again and again because of this dick with wings! You know the asshole had us trapped in a time loop and murdered me like over a hundred times just for kicks?"

You and Castiel both raise your brows.

"It's not like you remember any of it," Sam says.

There is a flash of hollowness in the younger man's gaze, but he quickly covers it by rubbing his eyes as if in fatigue. "I was the one who had to go through the same Tuesday over and over again, watching you die."

You stare at Sam in shock, and you think he's purposely avoiding your gaze. Knowing the depth of their connection, you can't comprehend how torturous it would be to watch his only family member die over and over again. The act seems unbelievably cruel. You peer over to Castiel, wondering how you would have fared in such an adversity.

The angel seems to read your thoughts and immediately sends you a reassuring look.

"Either way, the guy was jerking us around the entire time because he wanted us to _play our roles_ …." Dean says through gritted teeth.

When the man becomes silent, Sam turns and sees his brother's complexion. He breathes out through his nose.

"You probably know I'm Lucifer's chosen vessel." Sam looks down at his hands. "Dean is Michael's."

A heavy silence fills the car.

You already know, but you can't find the words to console them. Guilt fills you.

The boys don't deserve this. If only you had been more careful setting the seal on Lucifer's cage. If only you and Michael hadn't been so hesitant. Sam and Dean are tangled in this web of tragedy because of consequences from _your_ decisions all those years ago. Your nails dig at your knees.

For the remainder of the ride, the brothers continue to share the details of their encounter with Gabriel, finally finishing when you arrive at the motel.

Walking into their room after Sam, you lower into a seat near the table by the window. The taller hunter takes the chair adjacent to you. Castiel stands to your right, guarding your side like a sentry, while Dean, the last to enter, closes the door behind him and plops down at the edge of his bed.

"All right. We told you everything that happened since we separated. It's your turn. And don't leave out a single detail, especially about your friend, Maggie." Dean says with a grin.

The edges of your lips tug downward, your mind trailing back to what you're about to share. You're unwilling. But with what's at stake, you can't afford to keep any more secrets from the brothers, especially if you're to fight alongside them against the devil.

"Before I fill you in on the events of the past week, there's something else I need to share first." You exhale, looking warily at the brothers. "It's about time I gave you some of my history."

Their expressions harden.

You begin to speak, drawing back to the days when you lived as Lyss. You tell them of the _Wikkōn_ , the beauty and wonder of their world, their prosperity and strength, and then their eventual fall; the deaths, the war, and the _loss_ you and your kind suffered that day. You tell them of your oath, the conception of the _Guardians,_ your involvement with Michael and Lucifer, and the fatal attack that broke you. You tell them of Lilith's curse, and the seal she cast over your memories, forcing your soul into perpetual death and rebirth.

The room is quiet, but you barely notice. You're still submerged under the memories of your old life.

"When Lucifer escaped from his cage, Lilith's seal began to break. My memories as Lyss resurfaced, and they protected me from him. But given my human body at the time, I was still unable to absorb my past abilities, which is why my past self and my present self remained separate."

"Cass told us about your merge." Dean eyes you up and down, subtle hints of worry trace his features. "You were successful, right?"

You nod. "Thanks to Maggie." You smile a little at the thought of her.

"It was her on the phone that night in Alliance I'm guessing? Who exactly is she?"

"Maggie is also a _Guardian_. There are two others who wander this planet, and we're trying to find them."

Dean raises a brow, but there is an undeniable gleam of relief in his eyes. "Is that what you were doing after you left again. I thought you were doing some kind of training."

You shrug. "You're not exactly wrong. Once my mind became one cohesive entity again, I had to open my channels to the planet's energy once more." At their confused expressions, you slide back the jacket sleeve to reveal the mark on your left wrist. "We, _Wikkōn_ , have the ability to take in Earth's essence as a means to fuel our abilities. Normally, the power we gain from the planet is given back shortly after, but with our mark, we have to constantly carry a great deal of that power within ourselves. Zachariah knows the power we carry is used to protect this planet, replenish it if need be. He knows that if the fight between Michael and Lucifer ruptures the Earth, I will give up my life to sustain it."

Castiel tenses next to you. You see his knuckles turn white from clenching.

You hurry to amend your story. "But he's only half right."

Everyone stiffens.

"If the planet is in danger, he's right to expect that I will do anything to save it. But what he doesn't realize is the depth of the union between my soul and the Earth." Your eyes harden with vindication. "I will live as long as this planet lives. Only when Earth has lived out its life span will I be free from the oath and experience the same passage through death as everything else." Zachariah has another thing coming if he thinks something like two archangel battling is enough to extinguish your existence.

The boys' eyes widen and they edge back in their seats. You don't know if it's from the ire in your voice or to digest all the things they've learned.

"So, if I'm getting this right…." Dean starts. "You're telling me you're now back to being a charged up super _Wikkōn_ -Guardian, and there are three more of you out there?"

Sam's face beams with excitement. "That's great! I know you said you aren't strong enough to seal Lucifer by yourself, but maybe now, with the other guardians, you just might be strong enough."

You recoil from the swell of hope on their faces.

"It is true that the four of us together again will likely even the playing field, but before we get a confirmation, it's better we proceed with our original plan."

The brothers look confused.

You bite your lip. "The _Wikkōn,_ are a peaceful race. We dislike conflict and violence."

You inwardly grimace at your words. You've grown to enjoy so many things you would have never dared to try had the curse never befell you; had you never lived as a human. But now, a certain part of you revels in combat and the thrill of danger. Having these contradicting sentiments within you only sets your mind on edge.

"Even if we find the others, there is a chance that they would choose to remain impartial to our… dilemma."

"What? Why? Aren't they your friends?" Dean's hand whips out anxiously. "And wouldn't their oaths force them to help anyways?"

You cast an uneasy look to the floor. You don't know how to answer him.

Luckily, you don't have to.

Castiel gains the attention of the room with a shift. "Worrying over speculations is a waste of time. Until we _find them_ , it's better to do as Alice suggests."

You glance over to the angel gratefully.

The boys mull over their thoughts, both staring pensively into space.

"So that's everything?" Dean asks.

You pause.

 _~"…since you did not find our bodies frozen in stone next to yours, it is possible that your transformation was only temporary, and the world you saw may not be as destroyed as you thought…"~_

What would be the use in telling them? Possibilities regarding the future of another world hold no relevance over the reality you keep here. Persisting on the matter only seems to be a fixation of yours alone.

You give the hunter a firm nod. Your heart wrenches when you try to abandon the thought.

Dean jumps to his feet. "Great! Let's go."

You blink at the man's sudden chipper mood, exchanging a glance with his younger brother. "Go where?"

"Go celebrate! And slash or at a pub. I spotted one not a few blocks from here. Been meaning to try it." When the dumbfounded looks on everyone's faces persist, a hint of irritation touches his face. Dean throws out his hands in exasperation. "C'mon guys, after all we've been through in the past few days, and having the gang back together and all, don't you think we _deserve_ a little break?"

Dean's enthusiasm starts to become infectious, and you raise a bemused eyebrow. "Didn't you just get tossed around through a different dimension by an archangel? I'd thought you'd want to get some rest."

When you look over to Sam, he only shrugs.

"This _is_ how we rest! C'mon. You know you wanna come."

You break into a wry smile. The idea of pubbing with the boys does sound… well, fun.

"Sure."

Dean's grin widens, now sending his scrutiny to his brother.

Sam is quick to relent, a small smile escaping his lips as well.

Then it's Castiel's turn.

The angel returns Dean's expectant look with stoicism. "This… _break_ may be a good idea. I understand moments of stress relief is necessary." Castiel glances at you, and you know he wants you to take things easy. "For now, I will busy myself with the search for the Colt."

It's almost comical how quickly Dean's face falls.

The angel looks ready to leave, but you don't want him to go so soon after you've reunited. You want to stop him, but Dean is a second faster.

"Hold on, Cass." He steps in front of the angel. "You're coming with us."

Castiel frowns. "I don't require _breaks._ And finding the Colt is far more urgent."

Dean holds up a hand. "And I get that. But _everyone_ needs a break from time to time. I'm sure even _God_ does."

Castiel is about to retort but Dean cuts him off. The man throws an arm over the angel's shoulder. "Don't be such a party-pooper. You've done plenty enough. Let us show you how we, humans, have fun."

You shoot the man a pointed look at his suggestive tone. His face is immediately a picture of innocence.

"Yeah, Cass." Sam chimes in, "you've never hung out with us before. It'd be a good way to get to know each other without a case or monsters looming over our heads."

When the angel's resolve appears to waver, you decide to give the final push.

"Might as well come with us." You grin at him. "You'll have to get used to human customs sometime."

XX

"A bottle of your strongest liquor, please."

The burly middle-aged man quirks an eyebrow at you. His fingers tap the wooden counter separating you from the vast array of liquor bottles presented behind him.

"Are you _sure?_ We've got some heavy stuff here." His eyes prod your form, deeming you entirely too small to even handle a single glass of whatever he has in mind.

You smile. "Quite sure. Not to worry. I will _not_ be driving tonight."

The man grunts and reluctantly bends down to bring out your bottle. He sets it on the counter with a clank, and you see that it's a Bacardi 151.

Your lips twitch. You know the man probably has something stronger, but you don't press. Smiling, you take out the cash and hold it out for the man to take. The bartender accepts your payment with a nod. He takes out a few glasses from the back shelf and passes it to you in a stack.

"Enjoy your night."

You grab the bottle and the glasses, smiling at the man as you turn to walk away. You know he'll be keeping an eye on you for the night.

When you get back to your table, the boys have already gotten a round of beers from the waitress. You try to hide your grin when you see Castiel eyeing his glass with slight disdain.

"What did you get?" Dean asks as you set the bottle and glasses on the table.

Sam raises his brows. "Bacardi 151." He grabs the neck and turns the bottle. "This is 75%" He looks up at you. "Are you expecting to get smashed tonight?"

Dean shoots you a bemused look. "You've been holding out on me."

You set the glasses and break the seal off the bottle, sighing. "I would if that were true." You pour about two ounces in each of the four glasses. "However, the alcoholic tolerance of a _Wikkōn_ far exceeds that of my old body. I'll be lucky if I end up with a buzz." You glance to Castiel, who is eyeing all the drinks with some discomfort. "I'd imagine it's the same for celestial beings."

Castiel's gaze flickers to yours momentarily before nodding.

Dean pushes his beer aside and takes the new glass. He regards you with suspicion. "Really. How much would you now need to get drunk?"

You grab your own glass and tap it to his. "A lot more than this." You toss back your head and down rum. The habitual scorch is now barely a tingle. You look sadly down at your drink, more disappointed than you realize.

"Well," Sam starts as he grabs the bottle. He proceeds to fill your glass again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We'll have to try out best then."

Dean smirks and raises his glass. "To family, friends, and living through to the end of our days."

When you and Sam have also raised your glasses, you urge the angel to follow suite.

Castiel crinkles his brow, finding the act odd, but obliges.

There is a loud clink when the four glasses meet. You all down the drink in one swig. When you set the glass back, Sam and Dean both let out a grunt. You give a sideways glance to Castiel, who seems to have taken in the rum with hardly a blink.

Dean looks at the two of you with displeasure. "Oh, it's on." He says under his breath. Grabbing the Bacardi, he pours another round.

You take the bottle when he finishes. "Dean, if you're planning on turning this into a competition. It's gonna end badly."

His eyes take on a fiery gleam. "Hey, as long as we're having fun."

Being the more mature of the two, Sam cuts himself off after the second glass. He explains that with the addition of his beer, it'll be more than sufficient for the remainder of the night. That earns him a "bitch" comment from his brother.

Unwilling to back down, Dean continues to work the rum with you and Castiel. Once the bottle is half-empty, Deans starts to blink a lot more. Sam smirks, and you notice Dean's mannerism and speech have begun to slur, despite how well he hides it. You try to distract the hunter to save his poor liver from himself when something catches Dean's eye. He jerks to the right, focusing on the now empty pool table under a hanging ceiling light.

You see the previous pool players on their way out, still laughing from their games. One of them bumps into Dean, and he falls forward, jerking the table at the sudden impact. Sam steadies the table while Castiel catches the rocking bottle.

Irritated, Dean swivels around with a "hey! Watch where you're going!"

The man turns around, appearing startled then suddenly breaks into a laugh.

"Sorry about that, buddy! Only had a few and already I'mma public nuisance."

The jovial and humble manner is unexpected, and the men retreat from the pub, Dean quickly loses his ire.

During the exchange, you watch with amusement as Sam politely asks Castiel to switch seats with him. He accommodates, of course, oblivious to the agenda of the request.

With a near roguish grin, Dean leans back and grabs Castiel's arm, pulling him to a stand. "C'mon Sam, how 'bout a game. Bet I can kick your- Cass?!"

You and Sam let out a laugh at the angel's expense. Castiel wears a confused frown while Dean is switching back and forth from where Sam previously sat to where he is now.

There is a flicker of deliberation before a devilish smile spreads across his face. In a lower voice, he turns to the angel and says, "today is the day you get to learn pool, my fluffy-winged friend."

Castiel grimaces. "My wings are not fluffy." The confusion never leaves Castiel's face as he's steered towards the pool table.

Luckily the pub isn't very full, so you and Sam are able to watch the game from your seats.

"50 bucks says Dean wins by a landslide."

You look to the younger brother with mild surprise. "You're on," you reply, earning you a grin. You watch Castiel as he listens to Dean's instructions, the impassive look is only marred by brief twitches in his brow. As the hunter goes through the rules of the game one by one, you examine Sam from the corner of your eye. His cheeks are tighter, slimmer than before, but his eyes are much lighter than the day he left on his own.

"How have you been, Sam?" you ask.

Sam tears his eyes from the pool table at your sudden question. He studies you for a bit before letting out a small sigh. "I've been better. Since finding out I'm the devil's vessel and all..." His gaze trails back to his brother, and his expression eases. "But I'm grateful that Dean's forgiven me. More or less anyways." He returns his attention to you. "And having the gang back together feels good. Thanks for looking after him… while I was… getting my head back together."

You chuckle, lowering your vision to your near-empty drink. "Outside of Maggie, you guys are the only friends I have." You give Sam a lopsided smile, feeling a tad embarrassed. "I think of you guys as family."

Sam reciprocates your smile, grabbing the bottle to refill your glass. He takes his own half-finished pint of beer and clinks it to yours. "Be careful though. Once you're in, you're stuck with us for good."

You laugh.

A clatter sounds as Dean takes the first shot, scattering the formation across the green felted surface. A solid red and a striped blue are sent into the corner pockets. Rather vainly, Dean straightens and makes detailed pointers about strength, movement, and positioning to Castiel.

You and Sam perk up when the angel takes his cue stick and approaches the table.

Castiel shoots Dean an unsure glance. "You're telling me all I have to do is to send the other balls into the pockets using the white one?"

Dean nods encouragingly, his two hands propped up by the tip of the cue stick. "It's simplicity at its finest."

You catch the smug twitch on the edges of Sam's mouth. "Moment of truth," he says.

Castiel scrutinizes the table, angling his head. He presses a hand to the table and slides the stick over it until it sits between two knuckles. He lowers, mimicking Dean's position.

Castiel's eyes narrow, and with a barely discernable motion, he launches the stick into the cue ball. There are multiple clacking sounds before the white sphere finally rolls to a stop. Both Sam and Dean stare motionlessly into the near vacant surface of the pool table.

Dean is the first to react, his bugging eyes finally returning to normal size. "Jesus Chr-"

"I'd prefer if you don't swear in God's name," Castiel says, shooting the hunter a stern sideways glance.

Sam rubs his eyes, stares at his drink, then double takes back to the pool table.

You keep your gaze on Dean and Castiel and say nothing. You let Sam's loss slowly sink in with nothing but a smirk on your closed lips. After a while Sam takes out his wallet and sets the 50-dollar bill down with a smack.

Castiel lays a placid look to the pool table. "I don't understand why this is entertaining. It's basic geometry and physics."

Dean glowers at the cue ball sitting alone on the table, grumbling, "That's not how you're supposed to play…"

You let out a laugh, and even Sam is chortling at how sour his brother looks.

They pull up another game at Dean's request. Either his drunken stubbornness is getting the better of him or he's eager to see if Castiel can execute the same move.

You smile when you see the angel's subtle reluctance, however, there is a definite note of amusement in his eyes.

"So…" Sam starts. There's a devious pitch in his voice. "Since when did you and Cass become a thing?"

You start, looking at Sam with wide eyes. You immediately notice your mistake and try to compose yourself, passing the man a demure look. Maybe you can still fool him. "What do you mean?"

Sam returns with a flat expression.

… _Or not_. You sigh. "I forgot how much more observant you are."

"What, compared to Dean? That's almost an insult."

"Touché, though I'm quite certain Dean would disagree."

Sam smiles. "So? I'm happy it's happening. I'm just curious of when it started."

A small heat creeps towards your cheeks. "Only a few days ago. After you came back, and I left to find Maggie."

The tall hunter takes a sip from his glass and turns to watch the awkward angel.

"What makes you like him? I'm sure there's plenty," Sam says with a slightly jeering tone. "I just don't get it."

You scoff. "Of course, I wouldn't expect you to." You glance over to Castiel.

The angel stands stoically as he continues to watch Dean play. The slight crease in his brows denotes the persisting bafflement at the game.

"He's just… special."

"Oh, he's special all right."

You punch Sam lightly on the arm. "Oh, give it a rest." At his chuckling, your previous humor ebbs away and you examine his form. "Sam…"

His grin fades a bit when he sees the serious look on your face.

"How have you really been holding up? Coming back to hunting. Last time you told me you were worried about the demon blood."

The last of his smile disappears, and you feel guilty for it.

Sam looks downcast. "Yeah. I still have cravings every now and then." His eyes flicker to his brother. "But when I think about how disappointed Dean would be if I ever relapsed, I hardly even feel them anymore."

His words invigorate you, and you hold up your glass. "Here's to family."

There's a loud clatter when all the pool balls are once again sent simultaneously into their pockets.

"Dammit!"

One side of Sam's lips quirks upward. "To family."

The glasses meet.

…

A soft breeze brushes across your cheeks, spilling stray locks over your eyes. You run a hand through your hair and push the messy strands back.

The night is cool and clear, with stars dotting the deep dark sky.

You remember the past; how often you and the other _Wikkōn_ would enjoy nights like this. You've spent countless hours staring at the infinite stretch by yourself, even shared a moment or two with Dean. But these instances are now so scarce. Under the pleasant memories, you feel a dull ache for your previous life.

Once Sam took Dean back to the motel, you let Castiel spirit you far away from the town. You wanted to spend as much time as you could with him, and for the moment, the angel did not object.

You're lying against a hillside, where the gentle slope meets a small incline, creating the perfect lounge seat under the stars. The angel, however, sits up with his back slightly arching as he gazes up at the same sky. There's not another soul for miles, and the prevailing silence seems to amplify your thoughts to booming volumes.

You can hear Castiel's soft breathing, and the sound draws your attention. From the way you're lying you can only see his back. You've always noticed a soft sadness about him, a trait carried by many beings who've lived too long and seen too much. But, against the darkness, the sadness appears to envelop him.

You pull yourself to rest your head upon your knees as you gaze at him.

After a few moments, Castiel drops his attention to you.

"Do you miss it? Miss being in Heaven," you ask.

Castiel stares at you, and you can almost see the million thoughts running behind his eyes. He breaks your gaze as it darkens, turning towards the horizon.

"Yes… and no."

You wait for him to elaborate.

"The things I miss… the comradery, being alongside my brothers and sisters, having their support, and their faith…." His right hand clenches, his face splitting into a grimace.

Regret slithers through you, and yet, even with the pain, you want him to tell you everything. You wonder if you're being selfish.

Castiel's jaw tightens, sending a loathsome glare into the night. "But after all the lies, the betrayal and manipulation… leaving was the only choice..."

You bring yourself closer, wrapping your arms around his left. You lower your head onto his shoulder.

"Somehow, doing what's right almost never correlates to doing what's easy."

You find his hand and squeeze it. His fingers reflexively wrap over your palm.

"I'm sure there are many angels out there who only needs the right push to see the truth. And this battle against Lucifer may be what's needed to open their eyes."

It's almost abrupt when Castiel turns to you. There's doubt reflecting in his eyes as they question your certainty. You return his gaze, unwavering.

The moment lingers, but then your earlier determination dissolves. As you continue to peer into his eyes, you can see his face overlay with the features of the _other_ Castiel, a darker and more haggard Castiel.

You let out a sad smile. "You really _were_ mad at me, you know. The you in that future."

Castiel blinks, his earlier thoughts broken. He leans in ever so slightly. "Then I apologize on my future self's behalf."

You give him a look, ignoring the traitorous blush on your cheeks. "You don't even know why you were mad." Your gaze falls. "And in retrospect… I think I might agree... with future Cass. I don't know the whole story, but I left everyone without a single word. Not even a goodbye. I still have trouble believing I did that- would do that."

The angel is pensive. "Perhaps you, or she, didn't have a choice. Different world, different circumstances."

You look up at him with surprise, a smile threatening to break from your features. "Wow. Next time I go to the future, I ought to bring you along as my defense attorney."

Castiel watches you. "You expect to go back?"

You pause, your earlier humor dropping. Your gaze shies away. "No…. It was a joke. And I can't, even if I wanted to…. Everyone there… is already gone."

Castiel lowers his eyes to your level. "Alice. It's not your fault."

He gives your hand a squeeze, and it manages to bring your gaze back to his.

"Cass. I don't ever want to see you die again."

His expression softens, but the sadness is back. He brings a hand to your face and kisses your forehead. "I'll do my best."

* * *

 **Had to re-upload this chapter because it was utterly full of grammar and cringe-worthy mistakes.**

 **Currently unemployed again and doing a back-breaking amount of teaching job applications to Korea... South Korea. It sure would be interesting if I did teach in North Korea though. Wonder if I would actually last a year without being thrown out of the country for planting ideas of freedom of speech and political corruption in young minds.**

 _ **Please READ AND REVIEW!**_


	19. To Unlikely Allies

Sorry, this took so long guys. I've been reading a crapload of books, and the more I read, the more I abhorred my own writing, so I spent a good 2 weeks re-writing this one chapter. The next chapter will follow immediately and it will contain very graphic scenes of intimacy. About time, I say. You'll see when it's coming and it will last to the end of the chapter, so feel free to skip the rest if it's not to your taste. =] Toodles.

 **Please Read and Review!**

* * *

After the night of celebration, you and the Winchesters separated again, but not deliberately. While you were still away with Castiel, Sam and Dean received an urgent message from Chuck, requiring their immediate rescue. Unable to reach you due to the lack of cellular coverage you had outside the continent, the brothers left to help the prophet without you.

When you finally contacted the Winchesters, you discovered they were lured away under false pretenses. Relieved, you apologized and promised to make sure their calls would reach you in the future. Since your aide was no longer necessary, you set your destination for Bobby's. Now that you had your memories back, it was about time you helped the man with his legs. Once you were safely in the old hunter's company, Castiel left in search of the Colt again.

You went through every healing spell and concoction you knew, but Bobby's paraplegia remained. While he commended your efforts, you were frustrated with your own uselessness. Healing was never your forte, it was, however, the specialty of another _guardian._ Of all the _Wikkōn_ healers, Llŷr was the best, and despite Maggie and Castiel's request for you to recuperate, you now had one more reason to do otherwise.

With a mirror you borrowed from Bobby's bathroom, you attempted to scry the _guardian's_ location. For hours on end you stared at the mirror, waiting for a flicker of something discernable. But in the end, all you perceived through the glass was darkness.

It was noon on the next day when you received a call from Dean. Apparently, the brothers were luckier in their ventures. Even under the fake emergency, they not only vanquished a trio of murderous specters, they also found the current holder of the key weapon you've all been searching so desperately for. Crowley, one of the top-tiered crossroad demons, now possessed the Colt, and under Castiel's pursuit, the demon's residence was located within days.

XXX

You stand hidden in the shadows as you watch the female hunter walk towards the main gate. Behind the tall black barrier is a mansion, likely built in the 1900s. Angel wardings gleam along its exterior.

You squint as you examine the property, but it is not the night that impedes you. You're doing your best to look past the enchantment cast over the residence. Even with all your senses heightened and alert, you can't discern any energy signatures in the building. Outside the gates, your surroundings glow with the essence of life. Animals, insects, plants. You can pinpoint every one of their locations effortlessly. But the moment you set your senses on anything within the gates, all you feel is a haze.

Jo raises a hand to the buzzer. She folds her arms about herself, looking cold and vulnerable. You know she's putting on an act, but it's mid-November, and the only thing that covers her is a small black cocktail dress. She turns around, seeming oblivious as she waits, but her sharp eyes flit towards the hiding spots of you and your companions. She signals you to get ready.

The gates unlock and you see two men in black suits approach. Jo utters her line, playing the part of a perfect innocent. With her face and skill, you think Jo would make a fine actress… if she ever got tired of hunting— which is unlikely. Your lips quirk at the strange thought.

When one of the men grab her, the façade of innocence breaks. Jo wrenches her arm away before knocking it against the man's throat. The guards are taken by surprise, their eyes now swallowed in black. Just as they gain a step towards Jo, Sam rounds one of the demons from behind and drives a blade into its neck. Dean and Jo incapacitate the other demon until Sam approaches to finish the job. When the final yellow flickers fade from the body, you're striding through the entrance.

You tried climbing the tall enclosures earlier with the brothers, but your skin burned at the slightest contact. Carved on every metal bar are insignias laced with pollen from the Dymifeora plant; a rare flower found only in the demon plane and quite corrosive to _Wikkōn_. The plants are extremely difficult to cultivate, and its secretions are known to be just as poisonous to demons. Yet, seeing the pollen used in such abundance is not a favorable sign. Luckily, Bobby contacted Jo and Ellen for assistance, even if it was against the wishes of Dean. Nobody guessed the demons would have prepared measures against _you_ , and had Jo not been here with her suggestion, the entire night might have been wasted.

"Can you see anything?" Sam asks.

You look across the pristine garden to the mansion. The haze around the building endures, and you squeeze your eyes shut from the strain. "No," you growl out. "I'm still blocked."

Sam quirks an eyebrow at the snappish tone. You can't help it. Everything you've attempted in the last few days has ended in failure. When you departed this morning, you thought this job would redeem you, and you wouldn't have to feel so utterly incompetent.

"Not a problem. We'll just have to level the playing field." Jo rummages in the backpack Dean passed to her and pulls out a giant pair of shears.

Following Sam's lead, everyone races to the right end of the mansion. While Dean pries open the electric panel, Sam points towards one of the second-floor windows situated just before a corner. You nod and accept a bundle of ropes from Jo. You carry the cord around your shoulder and eye the ledge just below the window. You think it should be thick enough to stand on. You take a few steps back before charging at the corner walls. Using the sides as support, you bound upwards to the second story until one foot catches the ledge. You secure yourself with your remainder limbs pressing against the adjacent wall. With a flick of your finger, you unlock the latch behind the window pane. You glance down to the others.

At your signal, Jo cuts the wires. A spark erupts from the panel and every light in the building fizzles. The window slides open at a turn of your wrist. Kicking off the adjacent wall, you swing towards the opening. Both hands latch onto the sides and you dive through the window. You land in the dark interior with a roll.

Your eyes dart around. Now that you're inside, you can perceive energy signatures again. There are less than a hand full of demons, and none are in your immediate vicinity. One particular energy stands apart from the rest. Situated two floors above you, a powerful demon shimmers with a sinister glow.

You quickly unravel the rope and toss it out the window. You wrap the other end of the cord around your arm and anchor your legs against the wall. The men are heavy, and even with your build, you strain to keep their weight. You curse the owners for not keeping more trees around the garden. You could have easily maneuvered the branches to act as a bridge.

When the brothers finally climb through the window the rope has left a burning mark on your skin.

"Where's Jo?" you whisper as you massage your arm.

"She's gonna keep watch from the car." Dean answers while Sam tosses the rope to Jo. He adjusts the backpack strung at his shoulders and gives the corridor a wary scan.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "You're a little over-protective of her, you know that?"

Dean throws a miffed look your way. You shrug but drop the subject.

Searching for the stairs, the brothers follow closely behind you. Past the layers of stone and plaster, you see two black entities approaching, but you give no halt. Their arrival couldn't be more opportune. It almost makes you smile.

When the demon guards emerge from the end of the hall, your companions bristle. The demons look just as surprised, but the initial shock immediately transforms into hostile snarls.

You charge towards them full speed. Lunging at the demon on the right, you lock your hands on his collar. You smash your head into the man's nose, shattering the cartilage. When his companion reaches for you, you leap skyward and snake your legs around his neck. With your hands still on the previous demon, you twist your body, whipping the two demons to collide headfirst into one another. As they fall, you untangle your limbs from the men and flip back to land on your feet. Straightening, you reach your neck and exhale in satisfaction. You really needed that.

When the demons begin to move again, you cast your spell.

" _Defaeco._ "

At your word, their bodies begin to convulse and their heads snap back. Plumes of black smoke surge from their mouths writhing under the force of your spell. You wave your arm upward, sending the dark souls hurtling past your heads. Sam and Dean duck before the smoke disappears out the same window you came in.

You march to the end of the hall and find the stairs to your right. When you notice the brothers haven't moved, you shoot them a pointed look over your shoulder. "What are you guys waiting for? An invitation?"

They glance back from you to the window again and hustle after you. The raised eyebrows and the brief exchange of shifting expressions detail their surprise and mild awe.

"Well, you're in a better mood," Sam remarks under his breath.

Dean glances wildly around his surroundings. "Why didn't you just use that spell in the first place? The whole mansion's probably coming here after that racket."

His words make you grin, and you really hope it's true. It feels like an eternity since you've last rough-housed it against anyone, and after all the crazy you've been through this past month, the knowledge you've gained, and the obligations you now shoulder, everything's been building within you like a pressurizing tank. If you don't let out some steam soon, you feel like you'll have a nervous breakdown. You know the _Wikkōn_ are largely opposed to violence, and as Lyss, you'd frown on this behavior, but you've come to accept this very human part of you, even if you do still feel _a bit_ repentant of it.

 _~…Power ripples from your body, swelling and gushing outward in a tidal wave of agony. Everything within your sight scorches black, incinerating any and all objects in its path. The demons and infected humans cry out the moment they're reduced to ash…~_

You pause at the sudden memory. You remember the influx of power you felt that day. Even as you were swallowed in the black emotions, there was a certain freeing quality to the state. Your mind was unhinged, but it was also… unrestrained…

"Hey, you okay? Is there something coming?"

You jerk back to reality at Dean's voice. You're standing in front of the stairs with a hand gripping the railing while the two hunters hover at either shoulder, wondering why you suddenly stopped. Something slithers against the back of your mind, feeling both familiar and foreign. A chill runs down your spine, and you immediately squash the strange sensation.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on the present. Whatever that was, you'll deal with it later. "No. Just spreading my senses. Crowley should be another floor up."

At the top of the railing, a yawning cement hall greets you. The stretch of wall and floor is accented with rich but stuffy English décor and leads past a doorway to what you assume must be the final stairs up. Your eyes sweep the ceiling and lock on the demon's aura.

"He hasn't moved yet," you say.

Sam and Dean hurry towards the carpet trailing the doorway. They produce spray canisters from their bag and proceed to paint the carpet's underside with a devil's trap.

When the murky energy starts to move, you quickly signal the brothers. They slap on the final symbols then flip the rug back to its former place. They back-step to your side just as the demonic miasma begins its descent.

Footsteps echo down the hall, growing louder and louder with each stride. You, Sam and Dean shift readying glances at each other, bracing for the imminent encounter.

Through the shadows and into the moonlight, a man of a similar height to you reveals himself. He appears to be in his mid-thirties, clean shaven, and donning a dark suit, black dress shirt and satin tie. His form is slightly rounder at the waist, but he holds his gait with an aristocratic air. Even with the receding hairline, his black mane is unabashedly quaffed back. He looks the perfect part of a businessman if any; calm features and a diplomatic smile. The only hint of shrewdness and the more nefarious thoughts that may betray his intentions are the subtle but avid gleam in his dark eyes and the pronounced line under his left cheek, signaling a habit of smirking.

Sam lifts his jaw. "It's Crowley, right?"

The demon pauses by the doors, surveying the three of you with cautious interest. He returns a mocking smile.

Now in full view, you can see his true demonic visage, twisting feral and menacing just beneath his skin. His size, though small in comparison to most of the human vessels demons tend to possess, holds no indication of the true prowess he bears. This demon is much higher up on the food chain. Excitement courses through you.

"So… the hardy boys finally found me. Took you long enough." His eyes land on you and his lips twitch. "And you seem to have brought a chaperon." Crowley tuts. "And here I thought you boys were finally becoming independent."

The hunters glower at the snide remark.

Amused by the lack of response, he steps forward, but the stiffening from the men beside you give him pause. His gaze drops to the rug and catches the slight fold in the fabric. Eyes narrowing, he bends down and draws back the edge to reveal the painted symbols underneath.

You can feel your allies' dismay.

Crowley lifts an irritated gaze towards the men. "Do you have any idea how much this rug costs?"

You jerk your arm sideways and the two demons creeping at your back hurl towards the left wall. With an audible crack, the force of your attack renders them unconscious. Your attention, however, never leaves the mansion's host.

Crowley's gaze flickers from the unconscious guards to you, and you can see his interest in you growing. You almost smirk. There's a refraction of light, and you catch the familiar sleek barrel pointed downward at his right hand. Reading your face like a book, he lifts the gun into view. "This is it, right?" He turns the weapon against the moonlight. "This is what it's all about."

Your muscles tense, readying to draw the gun from his hands. All you have to do is utter one spell and the weapon is yours… but for some reason, you hold your tongue.

"Alice!" Sam hisses to remind you, but you ignore him.

"Do you know why there are so few _Wikkōn_ left? Despite all your _abilities_ and _wisdom_." Crowley croons. His voice drips with sarcasm and ridicule. He's baiting you, and you know. Yet, you continue to allow it. You watch him through narrowed eyes while he saunters imperiously along the edge of the hall. The demon is moving towards the fallen guards, but what use would that do? The moment they rise again, you'll simply cast another spell to crush them. You're curious. You want to see his next move.

"It's because you're soft. And that makes you weak." He stops, and your eyes are laser fixed on his form. If looks gave any effect to physics, you'd imagine holes would be burrowing into his body from your gaze.

His arm extends, and he aims the gun barrel to the unconscious faces of the guards. "If you really want to ensure your survival, you finish the job." He pulls the trigger, and two bangs ring out.

Your lips fall into a grimace. You wanted to free the men from the demons, and you regret not performing the spell earlier. Unnecessary bloodshed is something you always avoided.

Sam and Dean are dumbfounded, and even under your own apprehension, the lone threat in the room provokes your vigilance. However, for whatever unfathomable reason, the demon did just eliminate two of his own kind, and with hardly a blink. You're not sure if the action is a cause for worry.

Unlike his guards, Crowley doesn't radiate bloodlust.

His previous snide humor disappears when he looks back up, replaced with a gravity quite out of place for a demon. "We need to talk. Privately." He exits the hall without further invitation.

Thoughts and emotions race through your mind. Follow him? A trap? Could you learn something advantageous? Will you be able to protect the boys if things go south? A flood of doubts and possibilities, but no time. You decide to trust your instincts and take the risk. You bite down, crushing your anxieties and follow him from the hall.

The brothers have been just as hesitant, but when you're passing the threshold their footsteps catch up to you. You note the tension rolling off their bodies and their urge for you to turn around to read their expressions, but you disregard both. Crowley has information, and for the moment, he seems to have no desire to hurt you. You could try to force his knowledge out of him after seizing the Colt, but you find lips tend to be looser when their owners believe they have the upper hand.

Crowley leads you up the stairs where you arrive at a lavish looking study. There is a grand bay window to the left, and it bathes the room in moonlight. He struts towards a large desk backed by a lengthy cabinet with numerous crystal liquor bottles atop the counter.

"What the hell is this?" Dean asks, stepping through the doorway behind you. The hunters scan the room with caution, eyeing each object and ornamentation like a possible threat. You've yet to set off any traps.

"Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?" He waves his hand and the door shuts, raising the alarm of both men. "There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists at all… Except that I told you."

Your eyes thin. But that isn't true. Sam and Dean discovered it because of Chuck's prophetic visions. Your mind race through the inconsistencies. Unless… he's unaware of the books and really did leak information about the Colt…

"You told us?" Sam asks, sounding doubtful.

"Rumors, innuendo… sent out on the grapevine."

"Why? Why tell us anything?"

Crowley's gaze trails over the length of the Colt. He then shifts his attention to Dean and raises the barrel his way.

Your body becomes tight as a bow string, your fingers curled at the ready. You glare at the demon, eyes burning on the weapon's trigger. He'll fire the gun at his peril.

"I want you to take this thing to Lucifer…" A murderous flash lights his eyes. "And empty it into his face."

Confusion and doubt flood the room.

"Uh-huh. Okay." Even staring into the barrel of the gun, Dean watches his opponent with snide suspicion. "And why exactly would you want the devil dead?"

Crowley lowers the Colt and along with it your tension. "It's called…" He sets the weapon on the desk. "Survival. But I forgot— you two, at best, are functional morons."

"Yeah, you're functioning… morons. Mor…" Dean's initial affront trails off into a stutter.

The demon throws the hunter a look of disdain, almost rolling his eyes. "Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just... filthy bags of pus." He picks up a half-filled glass of liquor from the desk and takes a drink. "If that's the way he feels about you… what can he think about us?"

The brothers look at each other, then to you for affirmation.

"Really? I, at least, expected more from _you_." A smirk spreads across Crowley's face as he watches you. "Or… are you still running around as their amnesiac sidekick?"

You glare at him, not liking how easily his jeers affect you. But this is major information. The demon has been keeping tabs on you. And if Crowley has been spying, you wonder how many informants have been whispering in Lucifer's ear, and how much they revealed to him.

Sam steps forward, taking the demon's attention with him. "But he created you."

Crowley lets out an annoyed sigh.

"Not entirely." The words leave your mouth before you can consider their gravity, and the attention of every person in the room now rests with you. Perplexity burns in the hunters' gazes while mild amusement shines from the demon's. You grimace at your own rashness. The truths you're about to unleash are far more suited for a more tranquil environment where the learners' minds aren't riddled with tension. But as far as truths go, Sam and Dean are bound to realize it sooner or later, and while you want to shield them from the morbid details, they'll be wiser for knowing it.

"As powerful as Lucifer is, only God is capable of creating life. All demons…" you swallow, "were originally just… tainted human souls. Lucifer only twisted their forms and imbued them with a new purpose: to serve their own desires, to exploit the weakness of humanity, and above all, overtake the world at his command." You see the shock in their eyes.

Dean is staring at Crowley with disbelief while Sam's complexion has grown considerably ashen. The reveal bears down a heavy realization, and one the younger Winchester already seems to grasp; every demon they've killed had once been human.

"To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. Think of it as his way of exacting revenge on God and humankind. If Lucifer manages to exterminate your species… we're next." He raises his brows at the boys, faking ignorance to the men's plight. You can almost see his delight at the vulnerability your words have just inflicted. "So... help me. Huh? Let's all go back to simpler better times. Back to when _we_ could all follow our natures." Crowley draws the word " _we_ " with such a tender inflection that one would think you're all in the same boat. And figuratively, you are, but demons like Crowley would never jump on said boat without at least two or three lifelines hidden on their person and a dagger they'd soon sink into anyone's back should it fit their leisure.

He offers the men another pleading smile. "I'm in sales, damn it!" Exhaling in a most human-like way, he walks towards the table's front and leans back. "So what do you say?" He reaches behind him and grabs the Colt, presenting the handle to the hunter closest to him. He wags the gun in front of Sam like a dog's treat. "What if I give you this thing, and you go kill the devil?"

You watch as fifty different emotions course through the hunter. Crowley may be the most silver-tongued demon you've ever met, but Sam has displayed some of the sharpest acumens you've seen humans possess. He mechanically reaches for the gun, almost surprised when Crowley pushes the Colt into his palm.

"…Okay."

"Great." Crowley flashes a celebratory grin.

Sam studies the gun and a shrewd look dances across his face. "You wouldn't happen to know where the devil is, by chance, would you?"

Mirth gleams in the demon's eyes, but he masks it with a pensive expression. "Thursday…" Crowley turns to seek his glass again. "Birdies tell me he has an appointment in Carthage, Missouri."

"Great. Thanks."

Your eyes bulge as Sam raises the barrel to Crowley's head and pulls the trigger. The empty _click_ assaults your senses like a boom.

"Oh yeah, right. You probably need some more ammunition." Crowley returns behind his desk and pulls out a drawer.

An emotion akin to mortification arrests the younger Winchester, rendering him nearly immobile. Dean shoots his brother an exasperating look. Your own dismal expression twists with chagrin, and you nearly groan into your hands. As clever as Sam is, he's still much too wet behind the ears to pull such a trick with Crowley, a demon with possibly hundreds of years under his belt.

"Uh, excuse me for asking," Dean starts, "But aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the devil and lose?"

Crowley responds with a testy breath, "Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway, two- after you leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three-" his voice hitches to a roar, "how about you don't miss, okay?! Morons!" He chucks the strip of bullets to Sam and vanishes.

…

When you exit the mansion, Jo and Castiel are waiting by the gate. You had to resist the urge to run into his arms. Sam presents the Colt and Lucifer's whereabouts as a declaration of the mission's success. You know the brothers are itching to ask you about the demon souls and their human origins, but they hold back. You don't know if it's fear or to stay from distraction that stills their tongue, but you're grateful for the silence. You don't want to dwell on the matter.

Jo departs as soon as she receives the news and promises to meet back at Bobby's place with her mother. With such a paramount encounter along the way, they'd likely gather as many weapons and supplies as possible.

The drive back to Bobby's house is an emotional strain. Castiel has chosen to accompany you even after you told him he didn't need to suffer through the ride, and that you, Sam, and Dean would be enough to keep the Colt safe. Castiel has replied that it wasn't just the Colt he wants kept safe. His simple words nearly made you tumble out every insecurity you had, and were the two of you alone, you might have welcomed it. But there is a time and a place for that, and in the presence of Sam and Dean, the spectacle would have rendered you a whining child, and you'll never be able to hear the end of it. But in all seriousness, Sam and Dean are relying on you. With the way they reacted when you told them your history they all but named you their ace. If you show them just how nervous you really are, it would lower their morale. And with the big fight now happening in two days, you don't dare say anything that would jeopardize their resolve. Through sheer force of will, you dig your nails into your palms and successfully retain your calm mask the entire way.

…

When the car pulls into the driveway, two unexpected energies alert your senses. Bobby's warm titian tone glows steadily from the living room, but his light is largely overshadowed by the brilliant fire that is Maggie's aura and another you haven't felt in centuries.

Your heart stutters, eyes widening at the realization. Can this be the break you so desperately need? Nearly stumbling from the car, you race into the house, leaving the others calling after you. Your feet screech to a halt when you reach the living room.

Sitting on opposing sides of the coffee table are Maggie and Bobby. Her elegant attire, a royal blue pencil dress, stands out from the room like a diamond among dust bunnies. She stands up from the couch and gives you a hug.

"Maggie…" you say as you pull away in part disbelief part awe.

She gives you a Cheshire grin. "I tracked him down and brought him over right away."

Footsteps come up behind you and you're suddenly flanked by three men.

"What's going on?" Sam asks, sounding worried.

Castiel flickers in front of you, battle ready. But when no threat greets him, he retracts his angel blade. After giving the room another probing search, he eases from your side.

Dean's eyes immediately land on the lavender haired woman beside you, his countenance brightening immensely. "Hey there." Even in the 11th hour, the man still has time for frivolities.

Maggie gives a throaty chuckle, and you roll your eyes.

Bobby turns in his seat, looking a bit unnerved. "If you're all done standing around like idiots, I've got two guests here who have important things to discuss."

"Two?" Dean repeats. The brothers scan their surroundings, searching for the second guest _._ Your heart pounds in your chest as you step around the men to walk further inside.

Perched on the backrest of a chair between the couch and Bobby is a regal hawk. Dark brown feathers adorn its form, ending in a long brushing tail. Its elegant beak is the color of ivory until it dips into an ebony tipped curve. With its head held high, it watches you with patient eyes; one of gold and one of black.

You reach out your hand in greeting, hovering inches from its elegant beak.

As if the avian predator is worried it would scare you away, he arches forward slowly and nuzzles your fingers.

You smile, still awash with shock and reverie. "Horus," you breathe. "It's been too long." Your hand falls back to your side, and you want to collapse in front of him in reprieve. "Thanks for coming."

The hawk bows, looking oddly diminishing.

 _*I am glad to see your memories have returned. I hope you do not fault us for leaving you in ignorance. *_

You shake your head vigorously. "Of course not."

"What the hell's going on?" Dean's bewildered voice severs your dialogue. "What's a bird doing in here?"

Horus shifts his attention to the men, mild irritation radiating from his body. He straightens and stretches his wings, erasing all previous form of humility.

* _Children. Even after a millennium, your minds continue to remain so small. *_

The deep timber of Horus's voice rings in the minds of everyone in the room, eliciting a frenzy of reactions. Bobby winces from his seat, looking even more uncomfortable than before. Castiel stands his ground from the corner of the room but narrows his gaze at the source. Maggie's face is caught somewhere between sheepishness and amusement, while Sam and Dean look frantically about the room.

"Who the hell-"

Following the vision of everyone else, Sam quickly finds comprehension.

"Dean." He motions for his brother's attention before nodding to Horus.

Dean's gaze shifts from his brother to the hawk. "Are you telling me-" He does a double take. "Did he just call us children?"

You clear your throat to save the man from further embarrassment. "This is Horus." You gesture towards your old friend. You can't help the desperate hope leaking into your voice. "He's a _Wikkōn_ and one of the four guardians." You then motion to the rest of the room and provide the same introductions.

The look of bewilderment doesn't leave Dean's face. He scrutinizes the avian creature, then switches to you, expecting some reveal for the entire scene to be some kind of prank. Sam, however, appears more adjusted.

"Um… I thought you _Wikkōn_ \- I dunno, looked human?"

Maggie stifles a laugh behind her hand, but before anyone can answer, the more sensible brother makes an insightful observation.

"Horus?" Sam's brows lower in thought. "Like the Egyptian God?"

You note the arching in Horus' neck. Sam has successfully elevated himself in the _Wikkōn's_ eyes. Maggie too seems just as impressed. From the way she's eyeing the younger Winchester, you'd think she's ready to dine on a delicious meal. Sensing your objection, she throws you a wink.

Dean is more skeptical. "I thought you guys were _guardians_. Now you're gods too?" Carrying a naturally rebellious personality, the man persistently found issue with members of authority. And with the recent altercations against Heaven, his deep seeded mistrust against any powerful figure only grew.

Maggie smirks at the man's flippant address. "We, _Wikkōn_ , have lived in the world for ages, and there was a time when we actively engaged in the human societies. I'm not sure how much you know of our history, but after Alice's disappearance, we searched the planet through the most efficient method we found. We revealed ourselves, each at a different corner of the globe. Naturally, with our abilities and knowledge, we were viewed as gods. Horus became the icon in what you now call Egypt, I was the Mesopotamian Goddess of Love and War for a while." Her sensual lips curve when Dean piques at her introduction, and you wonder if you need to bring your amorous friend back to task. She certainly isn't helping the man's focus by standing so close to him. Luckily, your fears are unwarranted.

"But when we found Alice, there was no more need to pose as leaders. We abandoned our posts from the human societies and retreated to live as we saw fit."

Sam's visage beams with unanswered questions. The woman has unleashed an avid curiosity in the scholar part of Sam. The gleam in his eyes dims when he remembers the current circumstances and shelves his excitement for a later date.

"And to answer your first question," she continues as she saunters towards you and Horus. You wonder if she read your thoughts. "Many of us choose to appear human because it's the form most convenient to us. However, there are a certain few who prefer other forms, and of the ones who have special gifts, like Horus here, can change their appearance whenever they wish." She places a hand on her hip. "I suggested he arrive in his more human form, but he stubbornly declined."

Horus clicks his beak, appearing none too happy with Maggie's description of him. He then passes his gaze from one man to the next. When his attention lands on the angel, you sense a sharpened, almost stringent inspection burning from his avian pupils.

"It's an honor to meet you, Horus." Sam steps forward and bows his head, drawing the _Wikkōn's_ attention to him. The show of respect earns an approving nod from the hawk-god. Sam tugs at his brother to provide a similar greeting.

"Uh… yeah. Nice to meet you." Dean mutters after pitching Sam a look of annoyance. "So, I'm guessing you're here to help with the cause and all?"

Your heart skips a beat.

Horus turns to Maggie with a perplexed cant of his head. _*Cause? *_ His question is undoubtedly directed to the lone woman, but the steely voice still echoes in everyone's mind.

You raise your eyebrows at Maggie, who suddenly appears to lose some of her usual zeal.

"I thought it'd be more convincing if you guys explained it to him directly." She leans closer before whispering, "you know how he is."

Horus shifts on his perch, looking indignant.

"It's fine." Sam interrupts before you can answer. Eagerness and trepidation mark his form, and you imagine you're looking quite similar. Despite his size, the man is a picture of humility. "We're more than happy to explain."

Like volleying a ball, Sam and Dean echo back and forth the recent occurrences from the rising of Lucifer, their encounter with one of the horsemen of the apocalypse, to their acquirement of the Colt. You jump in now and then to add anything they missed.

Horus is silent for the entire duration, only the occasional twitch and flurry mark his attention. When the men finally finish, their expressions are imploring. You think your heart might burst while waiting for his reply, and it's a miracle the room can't hear it. For the moment, the silence becomes so thick the sound of a pin drop could tear the house asunder.

The hawk bobs his head to the side.

 _*And what relevance does this have for me? *_

Your heart sinks.

Dean looks as though he's been struck in the face. "Billions of people will be murdered! Don't you care?!"

You grimace at the man's bellow. Even Maggie's earlier levity has disappeared. Horus, however, appears unaffected.

 _*Creatures live and die because that's what they do. What makes humans so different? Why should I put the lives of mankind above the lives of other creatures? *_ Horus tilts his head back, looking down his beak at the men. He seems to have grown in size. _*As long as Earth remains, this is not my battle. *_

"Alice visited the future, Horus. If we don't intercede, Lucifer will win." Her gaze sharpens. "And the angels will leave."

Though no distinguishable motion appears in Horus's gaze, you feel your friend eyeing Castiel. The hawk is silent, but if he were in his human form, you'd imagine he'd be narrowing his eyes. His beak snaps to you.

 _*So you witnessed the future. *_ His wings give a flutter. _*Alarming as I'm sure it must have been, time is of a mercurial nature, and the aftermath of an alternate reality is not enough proof to ascertain my interference. *_ His tone is callous and finite, and you think you hear a hint of remorse speckling his words. Your mind lapses at his reply. Under normal circumstances, given Horus's personal history with the humans, he has every reason to refuse you. However, this current predicament is far from normal, and you've never known Horus to shirk from a sincere request for aid. Have the past few thousand years changed him? Or is he telling you that his help _isn't_ _necessary_? You study your old ally in thought.

 _*Right now the rest of the Wikkōn are on neutral ground with Lucifer. If we were to openly stand against him, we would only bring more trouble to our kind. *_

Dean's face is red with anger. His jaw clenches and unclenches from the words threatening to burst from his throat.

"If you don't care then why the hell are you a _guardian_?!"

Horus flits closer, landing on the back of a chair a meter from Dean. He sizes up the hunter, openly meeting his challenge.

 _*What I guard is the_ planet _. Not humans. Should all the ants disappear the next day, the Earth would decay. But should humans perish, what do you think would happen? *_

A vein throbs at Dean's jugular, but he's unable to retort. Flooded with rage, Dean storms from the room. Sam looks to you for help as the disappointment and helplessness begin to mar his features. Still trapped in your own thoughts, you're unable to offer any words. Sam turns away and breaks for the door as well.

Bobby stares worriedly after the boys. You know he wants to follow them, but his predicament leaves him trapped, and he surrenders to his limitations with a depressing silence.

After the second slamming of the door, Maggie sighs. She turns a reprimanding look to Horus. "Did you really have to be quite so blunt? We both know you don't really feel that way."

The hawk doesn't reply.

"You said you won't interfere as long as the planet remains unharmed." Castiel steps closer to the light and directs his unwavering gaze to the stubborn _guardian_. The room seems to shift at the sudden addition as if everyone had forgotten the angel's presence… save you, that is. You move mechanically to the sound of Castiel's voice as it temporarily breaks your internal turmoil. Whatever that's kept Castiel silent all this time has no more effect. The grimness about his face and the edge in his voice announce the end of his patience.

"With the current situation, we are grappling against Lucifer. If he wins, the angels _will_ leave. Heaven has no interest overseeing a planet ruled by the devil." His revelation chips away at the ground you stand on.

The hawk returns Castiel's scrutiny with derision. You sense a strange animosity from Horus, but you don't know why.

 _*It's come to my attention that it is heaven that desires this…_ cleansing _… as they call it. What of you? What is your purpose here? *_

Castiel glowers at the insinuation. "I rebelled. I don't agree with their decision."

Horus bobs his head back like he's laughing.

 _*A traitorous angel. *_ He clicks his beak. _*I see your waning grace; you've been excommunicated from Heaven. A fallen-*_

Something snaps in you.

"Cass has done everything in his power to help." Your voice is sharp when you cut Horus off. Even if he's an old friend whose assistance you're begging for, after everything Castiel has sacrificed, you won't let him be made a mockery of. "He's loyal through and through, and he has my complete faith." Your words catch the angel by surprise.

Horus momentarily dithers, and he studies you in silence. When he moves again, it's to bow his head; an offer of his apology.

 _*I have spoken out of turn. Forgive me. But my decision remains. I have no interest in making Lucifer my enemy. *_

Closing your eyes, you force yourself to accept his verdict. Your previous ire fizzles, only to be replaced with an itching vexation and a headache. "I regret your decision, but I understand."

A grunt rumbles from Bobby, and when you pass him your attention there's a surly look on his face. He turns his wheelchair and inches closer to the immortal bird.

"I'm sorry if I'm talking outta line here, but you _Wikkōn_ or _guardians_ or whatever the hell you call yourselves, you're friends, aren't you?"

Horus stares back at the man with mild interest.

"Now, I don't know how you do things in your culture, but over here, we do our damn best to help when there's a friend in need. I get you wanting to protect yourself, but this is life or death here— on a global scale. You can forget us humans, but your two friends are fighting this battle too. Are you really going to stand there and watch them take on a war with the devil by themselves?"

You're touched by Bobby's speech, and on any other day, you would have raised a glass to the hunter's reprimand. Maggie looks like she's either about to kiss the old man or add to his berating on the hawk-god. Bobby's words are scathing, but they strike a resounding chord in everyone. Horus becomes still.

Maggie claps her hands, and you almost see a lightbulb clicking on over her head. "If you aren't willing to help us directly, then how about offering us some advice? You were our best strategist during the _Battle_ , you may be able to give us the edge we need to defeat him."

Horus angles his beak in thought, and hope swells in you once more. When he finally nods, you exhale in relief.

Horus asks for the details of your plan, and with only you and Castiel present, the two of you reply in earnest. He bristles at the arrangements you've made.

 _*Battling Lucifer in just two days' time is completely reckless. I strongly advise against this ludicrous plan. *_

Castiel breathes out through his nose. "It's the only chance we have and we need to take it."

Horus's feathers expand in irritation, but he holds his tongue. After a longer deliberation, he straightens. _*There may be a way…*_ He snaps his beak at Castiel. _*Endeavor on this foolish plan if you must, but I suggest the rest of you keep a calmer head, *_ he ends the warning with his eyes on you. _*If you can stay alive until I return, I may provide you with a means to succeed. But I need some time to verify a few things. *_

Horus raises his wings and lifts into the air. The windows behind the couch burst open.

 _*Stay safe, Alice. *_ His farewell chimes in your mind before he soars into the night.

You watch as Horus disappears from view with mixed feeling stirring in your gut. Despite warning Sam and Dean otherwise, you really did expect Horus to take up arms with you. And though that may not have happened, the _Wikkōn_ is an excellent tactician. Had it not been for his planning, the terrible battle against your own kind would have lasted to God knows how long. If Horus is promising you a contingency plan, then he's offered you a weapon far more valuable than the power of a hundred of your kind. Furthermore, you have the Colt, the one weapon that may likely _end_ the devil. You can feel the vice over your heart loosen. The future may look a lot brighter than you previously experienced… if everyone survives the coming Thursday that is.

"I'm really sorry." Maggie bows her head. "I really thought he would change his mind if he listened from you directly."

You shake your head, telling her the apology is needless.

"But you still have me!" Her expression is a little frantic. Horus's rejection seems to have fazed her more than it did you. She squeezes your arms in an effort to reassure. "With two _Wikkōn_ on the battlefield, we'll more than likely give the archangel a hard time."

You offer her a smile but decline her proposal. "Lucifer still doesn't know you're helping us, which makes you a valuable asset. I need you to stay hidden until there is no other choice. When we go to Carthage Thursday, we only need one opportunity to shoot him with the Colt. Cass and I will suffice in providing that."

The ridges of her brows crinkle, and her grip on your arms tightens. "Are you telling me to do nothing while you're on the frontlines?"

You shake your head and gently pry her grip from you. "I'm fine. And I'm not telling you to do nothing. We still need to find Llŷr, and I'm entirely incapable of the task." Your mouth tugs into a wry smile.

Maggie glares at you, but when she can't seem to change her mind, she expels an angry sigh. "Fine. If that's what you really want me to do, then I'll find him. Last time I checked, Llŷr cast himself to sleep somewhere at the bottom of an ocean. It won't be much longer to locate him."

Your brows pinch, and you wonder if the darkness you saw in the mirror was really the bottom of the ocean.

Giving you another lingering look, Maggie turns to Bobby with a softer expression. "I promise, as soon as I find Llŷr, he'll be able to make your legs good as new." She offers him an encouraging smile, receiving only a weak upturn of his lips in reply.

"Oh right!" Maggie snaps her fingers. "Before I forget." She reaches for her coat left strewn over the back of the couch and reaches for something in her pocket. She then takes your hand and slaps it on your palm. You glance down and see a small drawstring pouch. Within the black fabric, you feel the weight of something numerous, tiny and round. Seeds?

Upon opening the contents, you verify your assumption, but you also find an additional piece of paper inside. Folded into quarters and cut in a perfect square, a familiar arcane circle inks the surface. You look up at Maggie.

"My summoning seal. In case of an emergency. I've been meaning to give it to you for a while now." She smiles when you pick at the seeds, letting them roll in your palm. "As for these, I'm sure you know what to do."

You slide the plant seeds back into their pouch. "If we're lucky. I won't need it."

* * *

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	20. To the Last Night On Earth

Hey **guys! As promised, this chapter will contain _very graphic content_ on physical intimacy. I will subsequently have this story rated as Mature. Hope you enjoy! =]**

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* * *

~Sam's P.O.V.~

"Dean!" I race after my brother, knocking the front door into the paneling. It makes a loud noise when it slams back onto the frame, but I'm too preoccupied to mind the noise. Just when things were going so well, this entire night turns into a complete disappointment.

I catch sight of Dean pacing around through the chain-link fence in the junkyard, and my footsteps slow to a jog. I round the entrance and slowly walk towards him. I flinch when he suddenly kicks the door of a rusting Volkswagen. Surrounding us, dozens of obsolete cars are stacked high against each other, and the one kick sends a vibration up a four car pileup.

For a minute, I thought I had to shove my brother out of the way.

"I swear to God, if I didn't leave I was gonna wring that stupid bird's neck!" Dean snarls out. His fingers curl against each other in a strangling motion, outlining the verity of that threat. I approach him from behind and place a hand on his shoulder. Despite our line of work, Dean rarely gets this angry. But when he does, it usually takes killing something, a case of beer, or a fistfight in an alley to calm him down, sometimes all three. I search for what I can say to pacify the man. "Look, I know. It's frustrating-"

Dean whirls around. "Frustrating?"

I wince at the volume and rancor in his voice. Apparently, I chose the wrong word. When he gets like this, he doesn't care who's on the receiving end of his wrath.

"When you run out of bullets chasing a werewolf, _that's_ frustrating. When a fucking _guardian_ who's supposed to protect the world tells you he doesn't give a rat's ass about humans, that's fucking outrageous!" He jerks away from me a little too forcefully and staggers to the side. As he pushes against the stack of cars to right himself, Dean's chest heaves with pent up rage. He suddenly bows his back and spits into the pavement. "Sam, I'm so mad right now I think I'm gonna be sick." True to his words, a slight green tinge seems to have crawled its way into his complexion.

I watch my brother with worry. I still don't know what to say to possibly make the situation any more bearable. I glance back at the house wondering if Alice and Bobby are making any progress. I rub the back of my neck and sigh. Since the beginning, we were in _way_ over our heads, and we've been doing literally everything we can to rectify our actions… _my_ actions…. I frown.

Not a day goes by when I don't wake up wishing I could turn back time and redo everything. And if I do find a way to fix it, whatever it is, as long as I can pay the price, I'll do it. But for now, we need all the help we can find. So yes, having Horus reject us is a harsh blow, and it may even be one we can't afford. But after what Alice told us about her people's history and seeing the aftermath of my actions, what possible criticism did I have to give anyone? I swallow back the rise of self-hatred and turn to Dean. He isn't gonna like what I'm about to say.

"Dean." My call is weak, but it garners his attention anyway. "I can't blame him."

Dean swerves, his eyes gleaming. "What did you just say?"

I brace myself. "I said, I can't blame him."

Red flashes in my brother's eyes. His body tenses for a second with a look that promised me a good punch to the face. I step back and ready for his attack but hold up my hand in hopes that a shred of lucidity might stop him long enough to hear me out. Dean curls his fingers and grits his teeth. He swallows back whatever upset insult he was going to spew at me and pins me with a heated glare. That's enough of a cue for me to start talking; I don't need a verbal invitation. It's either explain quick or have Castiel fix a broken nose and a black eye. I lower my hands and use my calmest voice. "Remember what Alice told us? About the battle they had?"

Dean doesn't say anything, but a twitch in his face indicates he does.

I continue. "It was _humans_ that massacred her people, even after all they gave to humanity. We… _betrayed_ them. And thinking about it now, we still haven't changed much as a species."

Dean stills. As he mulls over my words, his shoulders begin to sag. I know he sees my reason, but his own pride and obstinance are causing a war inside him. His lips draw back, baring his teeth. "It was Lucifer in the end, wasn't it? He manipulated them!" He cuts the air with a thrust of his arm. "He lied! ... And yeah, we humans aren't exactly saints, but there's a whole lotta good people in this world who don't deserve this!"

"And I completely agree with you." I hurry to add, dodging his line of fire so he could see I'm on his side. "But try to look at things from his perspective. We're two humans and an angel trying to fight the devil so humans can live. With his history, he has no reason to trust us, much less help us. Heck, we should count ourselves lucky he didn't stand to fight _against_ us!"

Dean throws me a doubtful glare. "Don't be so sure he hasn't yet. For all we know, he could be on his way to pledge loyalty to Lucifer right now."

I give him an admonishing look. His words are out of spite, but not any less abrasive. Had Horus heard what he just said, who knows what the former Egyptian God would do to him. I tentatively approach my brother again. With a dip in my brows, I try to catch Dean's gaze, looking as pleading as I can. "Don't forget, we've still got Alice. Her friend, Maggie, seems to be on board too. That's two charged up _guardians_ we still have on our side. We could really do worse."

The burning gleam in my brother's eyes die, signaling it's now safe to approach. I set both my hands on his shoulder with a firm grasp. "And... We got the Colt! We know where the devil is. _All of this_ can be over on Thursday."

Dean's eyes lighten at the mention of the Colt, and the strain starts to leave his face. He looks off to the side, silently deliberating.

"We only need one shot, Dean. Just one. And _I know_ we'll get it."

His anger subsides, and after a moment of quiet, he looks up at me with a wry grin. "This is why we always had you take care of the crying damsels in distress. About time your pansy counseling abilities actually do some good."

My lips twitch into an equally sly grin. "Are you saying you're the crying damsel in this scenario?"

He shoves me aside. "Shut up, smartass."

I chuckle.

Calm again, Dean and I return to the house, only to find Horus gone and Maggie about to leave. When I ask if anything had changed, Alice shakes her head, unable to meet my eyes. Her friend is more optimistic.

"Don't be too down, boys. You still have me. I'll be hunting down the last _guardian_ for now, but I'll be there in a flash if you need me." Maggie grabs my neck and lowers my head before planting a kiss on my cheek. She quickly lets go and does the same thing to Dean. I glance back at Alice with wide eyes, completely taken by surprise. She only shrugs. As Maggie disappears out the door, she gives everyone another quick wave. I catch Dean teetering on one leg as he follows her form down the driveway. When he turns back to us, there's an idiotic grin on his face. I resist the urge to scoff. If that's all it took to calm him, why'd I even bother risking a black eye to reason with him? But I do have to admit… Alice's friend is pretty good-looking.

After Alice finishes retelling all the details we missed, she delves out a heartfelt apology. "He means no ill will. But some of the _Wikkōn_ haven't completely moved on."

To my surprise, Dean holds up a hand and tells her it's all right and that he understands.

For the rest of the night, we spend our time pouring over the maps and history of Carthage, trying to find out why Lucifer would be there or if Crowley's tip is just another one of Lucifer's ploys. When the first light of Dawn breaks through the window, I'm barely able to keep my eyes open. Even with the coffee Bobby brewed, I can't seem to fight off the fatigue. Looking over, I notice Dean nodding further and further into his book. It's then that Cass announces we should rest. When Dean protests, Cass tells us we either head off to bed willingly or he's going to force us to sleep. He even holds up a hand signaling his readiness to shock our brains into slumber. Neither of us argues after that.

As I trudge upstairs after Dean, I notice Alice remaining in her seat. I can hear Cass trying to convince her to rest as well, but when I reach the top of the stairs I can't hear them anymore and am frankly too tired to care. I head towards Alice's guest bedroom while Dean stumbles into Bobby's. I don't bother changing my clothes, only roughly kicking off my sneakers. I think I fall asleep before I hit the sheets.

When I'm up again, Alice and Castiel are still doing research. I know angels don't sleep, but I'm guessing _Wikkōn_ aren't much in need of it either. Other than the occasional drink, I also haven't seen her eat anything for the past few days. And before all this end of the world craziness, I've seen Alice eat enough to double Dean's weight. I'm not sure if her lack of appetite is a trait of her _Wikkōn_ body or a testament of Bobby's cooking.

My eyes land on the old hunter, finding him passed out on the couch with a blanket on top of him and his face pressing into a cushion pillow. My lips twitch when I see he's still wearing the baseball cap. Dean is nowhere in sight so I assume he's still asleep upstairs. I hope he's resting well for tomorrow. I think the apocalypse is weighing on him a lot more than he lets on.

It's another hour before Dean wakes up, refreshed and ready to tackle more research. We pick up where we left off last night, continuously producing pages upon pages of notes, maps, images, and lore, anything we can find that's relevant to tomorrow's operation. I almost feel like I'm back in school, cramming the night before the final exam. Except, instead of obtaining a high GPA as my goal, it's the survival of the entire human race. I frown, cringing from the notion. Rubbing my eyes, I glance up from the laptop screen. The room is dead silent save the sound of flipping pages, pen scrawl and the occasional whirring from the printer. Everyone is so diligently focused on finding something pivotal they're practically glaring at the pages in front of them.

Unsurprisingly, Dean is digging his index finger into the corner of his book. Every time he researches something that has our asses on the line, he has this habit of gouging into any object with the misfortune of being near his right hand. I've got no idea when this started, but you'd be able to see his nail marks on multiple cups, armrests and table edges in this house. I doubt I'll ever tell Dean about it though, because despite everything, he always comes through for us in the end. I know Dean's under a crazy amount of stress, and he's probably hiding more than his fair share of secrets from me, but since that day he found me in the chapel when I released Lucifer, I promised myself that I'd never doubt my brother again, and I won't start now. Whatever he's got stuffed down his gullet, he'll tell me when he's ready.

Sitting behind my brother is Bobby. I feel guilty just looking at him. Everyone's noticed, but nobody's said a word. Bobby's been getting more and more depressed, even if he hides it all under a guise of crotchetiness. He's been more of a father to me than my own dad, and I'm pretty ashamed to say I've taken him for granted on more than one occasion. Bobby's looked after us, protected us, taught us everything he knew whenever dad disappeared on a hunting trip too dangerous for me and Dean. And now, with dad gone for good, Bobby's still looking out for us. And where has that gotten him? Stuck in a wheelchair with paraplegia.

When Alice told us she was gonna try and heal Bobby's legs, I was so, _so_ thankful. So when I saw Bobby still in a wheelchair when Dean and I came back, I wanted to yell at Alice— which I knew was unfair and luckily didn't do. Alice had tried her best and has been doing everything she can to help us. My eyes slide to her.

Standing a few meters to my right, Alice faces the bookshelf with a heavily-bound book in her arms. As her eyes move down the page, she silently mouths the words. Every now and then, she'd stare into space, and I'd catch a grimace. I'm pretty sure she isn't in any physical pain, and like me, her thoughts probably wandered somewhere unpleasant. I wonder how she's taking Horus's rejection. He's her friend after all.

Alice had warned us beforehand this might happen, but I didn't take the warning with nearly enough gravity as I should have.

Alice squeezes her eyes shut, and another grimace flies across her face. I'm guessing the stress of tomorrow is getting to her as well. She rubs her temples in fatigue.

From what I've seen, Alice is strong. I only got the one opportunity to witness her powers at work, but Dean's told me how she was able to hold her own against an archangel. Granted, the archangel at the time was trapped in a ring of holy fire. But even without her powers, since seeing her fight against those demons at that abandoned factory, you certainly wouldn't find me making bets against her. Dean would never admit it, but that girl can take us both in a fight.

My eyes settle on the last occupant in the room. Cass, our very own angel, perched at the edge of the sofa with volumes of history we've asked him to whittle down and authenticate for us. In the middle of writing down the next sentence, he looks up to stare at Alice again. I'll admit, it's pretty interesting to watch the two of them. Other than the whole not human and immortal youth thing, they really haven't got much else in common. Though I can't exactly say I'm that familiar with them. Castiel just seems… strange while Alice behaves pretty normally (or as normal as an immortal _Wikkōn_ hunter can behave). And now that I know the both of them are romantically involved with each other, it's just bizarre.

Despite Cass looking human, he's completely ignorant of most human functions. His common sense is askew, he has no tact, and sometimes, he's just downright awkward. If Cass wasn't an angel, he'd never be able to survive living in our societies. My mouth twitches at the list of less than complimentary observations I've made, but thinking about this is a lot more fun than dwelling on the possibilities of tomorrow. And I don't mean to insult him. There's no way in hell I'd ever say these things out loud, but this is just how he appears to me.

Alice seems to notice Cass's scrutiny and turns around. He frowns, and she offers him a smile and a barely discernable shake of her head. I have no idea what attracts him to her, but when all's said and done, it's clear the two of them care a lot about each other.

…

When Jo and Ellen arrive, it's early in the afternoon. They brought everything they could carry piled up in the trunk of their SUV. Their arrival means it's finally time we put all our data together to formulate a viable plan. We circle around Bobby's desk, clearing it of all the useless clutter before replacing it with more useful clutter.

One by one, we each go through everything we've found. We mark it all down on a giant map of Carthage, highlighting every location of interest: where we might meet an ambush; strategic buildings with good vantage points; multiple emergency exits; and special areas to meet should we separate. We list out the number of enemies and the kinds of monsters we may find ourselves facing. With that estimation, we bring out our weapons, counting out the specific amount of artillery needed to go in, kill the devil and get out with our heads on our shoulders. When everyone knows exactly what role they play and has the plan memorized, we break out the alcohol.

~Castiel's P.O.V.~

I've been keeping a close eye on Alice as of late. Partly out of concern and partly because I find my attention drifting towards her without my conscious knowing. Ever since her final return from that ensorcelled mountain, she seems to have become withdrawn. I've never known Alice to openly display her insecurities, but after what we've shared at the spring, I would have thought she'd be more forthcoming with me. Instead, even with the reveal she freely gave to the Winchesters, she refuses to enlighten me to the specifics of her unease. How many times a day have I seen her brows pinch together and her eyes darken with apprehension when she thinks no one is watching? There's obviously a great deal on her mind, and I'm not exactly oblivious to the types of thoughts that plague her. Had I not the ability to sense her wellbeing, I would have thought the woman was sick. The worry she wears on her face is many a times similar to the ones on Sam and Dean's faces, possibly mine as well. The confrontation against Lucifer is drawing near, and no one is under the false belief that our forces are ample enough to challenge the devil. So, I will wait until Alice is ready to tell me.

Alice's shoulders rise and fall, indicating a heavy but silent sigh. Her back is turned to me, hiding her appearance in front of a bookshelf. I don't need to see her face to know she's frowning again. As if hearing my thoughts, she turns around and catches my gaze. Her expression melts into an almost apologetic smile and she shakes her head, trying to tell me not to worry. She sends another coy look, oddly seductive and turns away again.

 _God_ , I want to touch her. My fingers dig into my palms. If we were alone, I wouldn't let go of her hand, but for now, I have to bear keeping her constantly just outside of arm's reach. My thoughts send a wave of heat through my body, and I grit my teeth to push back the want. Ever since she revealed how she felt about me I've been unable to get her out of my mind for longer than an instant. The sound of her voice, the way she walks, how her pupils dilate when she looks at me, how soft and warm she feels against me, and that mouth…

I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling immensely dry. I drag my eyes away from her before meeting the younger Winchester's gaze. He looks away almost immediately and clears his throat. I linger a bit at the odd behavior then force myself to return to the books.

An hour or so after I've finished extracting all the useful information from the tomes of history and amending what is inaccurate, I'm then tasked by the mundane chore of adding the mess of Bobby's and Dean's scrawled notes to my own. I am relieved of the tedious assignment when the two female hunters arrive. Dean introduces them to me as Ellen and her daughter Joanna, though everyone calls her Jo.

Once all the roles are dictated and ascertained, everyone is eager for celebration. I watch Sam and Dean carry large cases of beer from the basement while Ellen and Joanna produce their own bottles of liquor from their bags. I find the behavior odd at first until I realize everyone is trying to enjoy themselves a final time before the inevitable. It is highly likely at least one person here will meet their demise. I pause.

Alice's words echo in my memory. She pleaded to me again to stay alive, and somehow, my response still seems inadequate. She was the one who said so herself, in the end, all we can ever do is our best, and I vowed my best to her.

I'm a soldier of God. And when battle beckons, I have to answer it. As angels we are made to protect what God has created, it is the very reason for our existence. And I know I must fulfill that reason even at the cost of my life. Alice's words ring in my consciousness again, and they cause my resolve to waver. My existence as a soldier comes first, and I've always believed that, or so I thought...

When Alice looks at me with those eyes, so soft and pleading she might cry, I seem to lose all sense of being. These thoughts have plagued me for days, and when the moment arrives, I don't know which I would choose.

"Hey there, pretty boy. Heard you're good at holding your liquor."

I'm jolted from my thoughts. Looking down, I see it's the woman named Ellen who's addressing me. I tilt my head to the side, puzzled by her comment. Why would anyone be impressed by the ability to hold alcohol? "They're easy enough to hold in containers. I would have more trouble if you poured it directly into my hands."

She gives me an odd look. Did I say something wrong again?

Alice glances up from a bottle she plucked from the case. Her shoulders quake as she tries to muffle her laughter. Whatever mistake I made, at least she's smiling because of it. When she catches my eye, adoration shines from her gaze. Maybe I hadn't said anything wrong after all.

"You're funny." Ellen guides my attention back to her. "How about it? Now that we have an angel among us, I might actually get some real competition."

"Hey, I heard that!" Dean yells from the study. Joanna laughs.

I look to Alice, still unsure just what the woman wanted of me. She reads my expression, but her only reply is a smile, albeit with a slyness to it. Before I can object, Ellen pulls out the kitchen table and has her daughter bring out ten small glasses all lined up in two rows—shot glasses, I remember Dean calling them. She then fills each glass to the brim with some type of clear liquor. On the table printed across the bottle is the word Vodka in bolded letters. Fermented potatoes.

I wrinkle my nose when the smell hits me.

Ellen gestures for me to take a seat across from her, and after some brief deliberation, I do. Alice pulls a chair beside me while Joanna does the same next to her mother. Watching me with a steely expression, Ellen takes the first glass in front of her and drops the contents into her mouth. When she settles the glass back, she gestures to me with an open palm.

I know she wants me to drink with her, but I still don't understand the nature of this challenge. I narrow my eyes and peer into her mind.

Ah. We're supposed to prove to each other who could maintain a higher level of alcohol. Unnecessary. How can a human ever compete with an angel? Still, the woman seems adamant on seeing my abilities first-hand. So I take the first glass and drink, then the next, and the following until every glass is drained. A slight burn warms my throat. "I think I'm starting to feel something," I say.

Ellen's brows shoot to the top of her forehead. Her daughter gives a shocked laugh. Alice chuckles, her chin is resting in her hand and her elbow is propped up by her knee. She, of course, isn't surprised.

"Jesus, what does it take to knock you over?" Ellen asks, still flummoxed. Is that a serious question?

"You would have to apply a sufficient amount of force, but even with conventional weapons, humans don't have the strength required to achieve such a feat against me."

Alice lowers her gaze, her smile widening. Once the confusion passes from their features, Joanna and Ellen laugh. "Wow. They really weren't kidding about you." My head cants to the side at Ellen's comment. Who is the ' _they'_ she's referring to? And what was said about me? My thoughts are interrupted as the woman demands the competition continue. She fills all my glasses once more.

After the second round, Alice stands up and leaves me, but first, she squeezes my hand. I glance up at her and she offers me a quick smile before walking into the study. She doesn't want me to follow. Something the brothers said must have drawn her in.

While I continue to play Ellen's game, I fixate part of my attention on the conversation in the other room.

"Already tired of watching your angel boyfriend drink us out of house and home?" Dean quips.

"More like worried one of you will do something stupid if no one supervises you for too long," Alice retorts.

There's a discernable snort before a quick pause.

"Boy. Talk about stupid ideas," Sam says.

"Good God, true that." There's a scraping of wood against floor, and soon Dean is walking past me towards Ellen's daughter. The girl had left her side when she finished her bottle to seek more from the fridge.

"100 bucks says he strikes out." Sam's speaks again from the study.

"…Sure. I'll take that bet."

My attention is momentarily diverted when Joanna returns, leaving Dean by the counter.

I hear Sam laugh. "Tough break."

"Night's not over yet."

"Ha. If you say so."

Ellen signals that it's now my turn. The woman has decided for every five glasses I drink she would only drink one, to level the playing field as she put it. She asks her daughter to bring another bottle from the car when the one on the table is near empty. She's only on her fifth glass, but I can already see the signs of slur in her mannerism.

"So you think you're ready for the big day?" Sam restarts the conversation.

Alice takes a deep breath and exhales. "Big day," she repeats. "I think the last time someone asked me that was the night before prom."

Sam makes a spluttering noise. "You went to prom?" His voice is incredulous. _What is prom?_ "Did you have a date?"

She chuckles. I imagine Alice is shaking her head. "Nah. Missed the whole thing chasing a werewolf around town. It was too bad really, I bought a dress and everything." She sounds wistful to my ears.

" _You_ bought a dress?" There's a short silence. "Sorry, I don't think I can imagine you in anything but your jeans and t-shirts."

Alice laughs again, and I'm suddenly agitated.

"Do you regret it? Missing that dance?" _A dance?_

"Instead of saving a newly engaged woman from the werewolf virus so I can mingle in a building full of awkward hormone-driven teens whose only worry was not getting into their college or that the relationships they made in high school, in fact, did not last forever?" She exhales. "Yeah. I do. …But not about saving that woman, just missing the chance to experience something as mundane as a high school prom."

Sam laughs. "If we make it out of this alive, we'll have to help you crash a prom to make up for the experience."

The sound of Alice's laugh rings in the air, it's pitch more light than I've heard in a long time. I scowl, and the glass in my hand cracks.

"Cass, you okay?" Joanna asks, looking over at me worriedly. She exchanges a look with her mother. "Maybe you should drink some water."

I stand up. Ignoring the questioning stares from the two women.

"Everybody get in here," Bobby shouts from the study. He had been rummaging in a closet in the hallway for a while. He must have found whatever he was looking for. Ellen and Joanna stand as well and they start to move towards the old hunter. Bobby jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "It's time for the lineup. Usual suspects in the corner."

I step into the study to see what Bobby was asking. Set up in the corner of the room is an old camera supported by a tripod. I remember the device is able to capture images by burning light and color onto film.

"Oh, come on, Bobby, nobody wants their picture taken," Ellen says and reluctantly makes her way to where Bobby directed.

Sam takes a spot next to her. "Hear, hear." He cants.

Alice sets her bottle of beer on the desk she's sitting on and walks towards me. When she notices the frown on my face, she questions me with worried eyes. My frown only deepens when I don't know how to answer her.

Dean is the last to come in, and after taking his place next to Joanna, Alice and I are the only ones left. Alice takes my hand and pulls me towards the group. She glances up at Sam behind her and he gives her a nod. My grip on her hand tightens, prompting her to look at me. I suddenly want to pull Alice away, keep her as distanced as possible from the younger Winchester. My insides churn with unrest and I don't know why.

"Shut up. You're drinkin' my beer." Bobby grunts and adjusts a dial on the camera. "Anyway. I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by." His hand hovers a moment longer by the camera before he starts to wheel himself back to the group.

Ellen snorts. "Hah. Always good to have an optimist around."

"Bobby's right," I growl out. "Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on Earth." My mood is sour, and my words take the previous levity from everyone. Alice jerks a worried glance at me, but I don't meet her gaze. As the dial on the camera winds back to its upright position, she turns her face back towards the lens. A flash ignites. When I blink away the brightness, everyone has already separated, moving back to their previous merry-making.

Alice utters my name, but she's quickly pulled away by Joanna. The girl is eager to seek companionship from the only other female in the room who appears similar in age.

An arm wraps around my neck, and Dean's presence invades my awareness. With a grin playing on his mouth, he pulls me towards everyone in the kitchen. Before long, the hunters have completely forgotten about my sepulchral remark, and the room becomes filled with joviality once more.

I watch as the men throw jeers at one another, veiling their endearments under the guise of banter. I see their happiness and love, but I also see the pain and fear lurking just beneath. As they clink their drinks together, the conversation takes a turn for the reminiscent. They dole out old stories, reminding one another of their conquests and mistakes. Everyone begins to speak louder with added drama as the stories progress, usually ending with the room roaring with laughter. Their gaiety is infectious, and when I realize, I'm already smiling. My eyes shift to Alice, wondering if she's equally enjoying herself, but she isn't with everyone.

Alice had previously retreated to the end of the counter to throw her empty bottle away. But instead of returning, she heads for the hall. I stare after her, and within a few seconds, I hear the screen door opening and the clicking of the latch.

Why is she leaving? I stand to follow her. A hand lands on my shoulder and I look back. Dean gives me a drunken grin, his pupils dilating and constricting without focus. It won't be much longer before he loses consciousness.

"Cass." He grunts, the smell of beer and food residue invades my senses. I angle my head away.

"What." I don't have enough patience to listen to some drunken spiel.

His grin only widens, and he leans in. "You go get her." He immediately releases me and staggers away. I stare after him for a moment, puzzled. There's no need for him to tell me. I was already going to get her. I pivot and head for the door. Looking out over the twilight landscape, my eyes find her immediately.

Alice hasn't left, she's simply standing a few meters down the driveway, staring into the horizon with her back to the house. Her shoulders are drawn in and her arms folded at her midsection. A chilling wind blows past and it sweeps her hair into wisps. She holds herself even closer. Alice is cold. It's mid-November. Most people would be wearing coats, and yet, only her usual thin jacket covers her. I quickly close the distance between us. "Alice," I call out.

At first, she doesn't answer. She only continues to stare across the dark expanse. The wind ushers the clouds apart, and moonlight breaks through, bathing Alice in its luminescent glow. I can feel the heat roar through me. When she finally turns to me, I seem to have lost the ability to breathe. I wouldn't need it anyway. But _God…_ She looks so beautiful, so beautiful it's almost unbearable. I swallow and try to regain my bearings.

"Why are you outside? It's warmer in the house." I try to make my voice as stable as possible.

Her eyes search my face. When she can't seem to find what she's looking for, she turns away with a frown. Her nose and cheeks are sprinkled with red. Her body is clearly displaying signs of discomfort in the temperature and yet her behavior tells me she has no intention of going back inside.

I sigh and shed my coat, quickly wrapping the fabric around her shoulders. She dithers at my action, the frown briefly disappearing. I watch as melancholy begins to seep into her expression and soon, she lets out a long exhale. When she turns to me again, her head is hung low and she teeters into my chest. My arms encase her in an instant, my chin resting on her head. I let myself enjoy the moment. There is very little that can compare to this experience; to have this soft, baffling, and inspiring creature in my arms. A small noise escapes from the back of her throat. She suddenly grabs the lapels of my jacket and pushes me away. Taken by surprise, I let her. Alice glares up at me, and I don't understand why.

"Alice-"

"I don't understand you."

Her words leave me dazed. Did she just repeat the thoughts in my mind? It's now my turn to search her face. Her eyes are colored with frustration. Her brows are pinched, noting various other undertones of fear and dismay. If I wasn't so currently blind-sided by my own lack of understanding for her distress, I would have commended myself for reading her face so accurately. "What do you mean?"

Her lips press into a quivering line and she swallows. When her lips part, the usual rich timber of her voice is marred with discordant rasps. "I know things look pretty bad right now, what with Horus refusing to help us a-and having to fight the devil in just a few hours with only the seven of us— but _I_ have faith that even if we don't succeed tomorrow, it's not the end."

I stay silent.

When she sees no reaction she jerks away from me. I can't say that response didn't leave me feeling slighted.

"You promised me you'd do your best… your best to stay alive." Her voice lowers to a whisper. It sounds weak and broken. "We're all trying our hardest to fight despite everything. Our hope is frail but it's all we have to keep us going… that we'll all make it out alive tomorrow…" She grits her teeth. "And yet, you spoke of all our demise with such certainty…" She whips around and pins me with her glare. I waver under her gaze. In that instant, I'm pummeled with the dreading realization of my thoughtless mistake.

Alice is unable to maintain the anger in her expression and her face quickly twists into a look of pain. "Is there something you're not telling me? Or do you actually believe **tonight** , that this right here _really_ is our _last night_ on Earth?" Her voice breaks and the sound induces chaos in my mind.

My hand reaches for hers, but she recoils. I panic, seizing onto both her wrists before she can react. She squirms in my grip, and I lose all composure. "I'm sorry!"

She stills. My heart stops.

"I'm sorry." I try again. "I was angry. And I couldn't endure the persisting good-humor of everyone else. So I said something thoughtless in my foul mood. I'm sorry." Please tell me you'll forgive me. Don't pull away from me.

Alice peers up at me. Curiosity has now mixed within her pools of doubt and unease. "Why were you angry?"

It's my turn to recoil, but I don't let her go. Suddenly feeling very ashamed and rather aware of how tightly I'm gripping her wrists, I begin to loosen my hold. I close my eyes in self-admonition. "I was angry… because Sam was making you laugh."

She blinks. Her expression tells me my answer is completely unexpected. The previous emotions of pain and dismay evaporate, leaving behind a daunting sense of bewilderment. "You mean… you were… jealous?"

This time, I drop her wrists. Jealous? Her words jam my cognition. How can I be jealous? Jealousy is a human emotion; lowly, puerile and completely outside reason. Only beings too childish and ignorant would harbor such a sentiment, envying others… and longing for something… that wasn't… theirs. I close my eyes. My dignity crumbles before the realization. How had I glossed over this? Grudgingly, I begin to see why Dean calls me a child. When I open my eyes again, Alice's lips have broken into a smile. She bridges the space between us and wraps her arms around my torso. There's an almost smug expression on her face.

"So that's why you looked so agitated after my conversation with Sam."

My mouth twitches at the mention of his name.

She smiles wider. "You could have said something."

I watch her odd reaction. Why does my being jealous make her happy? Is it because she now knows my predictions of tomorrow is not as grim as she first thought? Regardless, my words were reprimandable. "I understand jealousy is not a commendable emotion, and yet, you seem very pleased by it."

"Well…" the word slides like velvet from her tongue. "Usually, it isn't, but it is a _very_ human emotion, thus, understandable. And as long as one doesn't let jealousy control their behavior, it can be seen as quite… desirable." The color of her eyes darken, and I find myself lowering my face to hers. "And since this is a first offense, I suppose I'll have to let you off with a warning."

I already know she isn't angry anymore, but I'm genuinely relieved. I stare into her eyes, my mouth only a breath away from hers. "So you'll forgive me?"

She lifts her chin and I hold my breath. She leans in, but her lips only brush the edge of my mouth, leaving me feeling sorely disappointed. She presses her face against my cheek and whispers into my ear. "Yes. But I might need to take some precautions so these silly thoughts don't plague you again…" If my fingers dig any harder into my palm, they're going to be showing up on the back of my hand. When she pulls back again, I resist the urge to kiss her senseless right here and now. The woman is baiting me, and my pride refuses to let me bend to the temptation.

Something sparks in her gaze and her lips curl. They're red from the cold and yet, I'd know they'd be deliciously warm to taste. Alice slides her hands towards my own, still currently balled into fists. The moment her touch feathers down my wrists, my hand uncurls, letting her hands slide into the crook of my fingers.

"And…" Her eyes drift to the side and she's suddenly looking oddly coy. I'm overtaken by curiosity. I keep a firm hold on her hands and pull my arms back. The motion tugs Alice closer to me.

"And?"

She smiles at my advances. "And… _this way_ you won't dare think of things like 'the last night on Earth' ever again."

My eyes narrow at her words and I angle my head. As curious as I am, anticipation curls in my stomach. "And what precautions might these be?"

Her gaze becomes liquid soft and so warm I find my senses dulling just looking at them. "I'm going to give you an offer. If you want, we can go back inside," her eyes darts to the house as if in emphasis, "and we enjoy the rest of the night with everyone else. …Or…"

I wait for her to finish with baited breath. She sees my impatience and the smile lights a path to her eyes. "…We spend the time alone. Just the two of us, somewhere else."

That one. I choose the second one. As much as I enjoy everyone's company, I'd sooner burn away to oblivion than refuse this offer. I try to keep my voice steady. "Where did you have in mind?"

She whispers her answer in my ear, and we vanish from the dark driveway immediately.

When we arrive at her intended destination, Alice gazes around the surroundings with nostalgia. The room is dark with only the weak streetlights filming through from the two narrow windows. Everything is left exactly as Alice and I last visited six months ago… when she was still a strange and unknown immortal and I still an ignorant soldier of heaven. I watch her face as she peruses about her apartment. She slides my coat off her shoulders and folds it over the back of a chair. Her hands move to trace the surface of the table, the walls, then the shelves.

"It's only been half a year, but it feels like I haven't been here in ages." Her eyes glaze over in memory.

I move towards her, wanting to bring her back to reality. It may be selfish, but I don't want Alice meandering in a world of recollections that was devoid of my existence. She is here with me now, as should be her attention. The advantage to such a limited apartment allows for us to be in near constant arm's reach of one another, and it only takes me a single step to close the distance. I take Alice's hand and turn her back to me. "I believe you promised me precautions?"

A laugh escapes her lips. She looks up at me with tender eyes. Alice lifts her hands to my face, and I lean towards its curvature. Her scent dulls my senses. "So eager?" Her voice is light and soft, but it sears my veins with want.

I grab the small of her back and pull her close, trapping her within my arms. Let that be my answer. I can't possibly be clearer. I lose myself in her smell of wildflower and spring, relishing her presence and her proximity. I drop my face closer to her mouth, thirsty for her lips. After another perilously long moment, she finally obliges me. The instant her mouth meets mine, I let go of all restraint.

For all the hours… the days I've held back since our last kiss, I'll let her feel the gnawing hunger I've suffered, and how much she would need to give to placate me.

My palm presses into the small of her back, crushing her to me. Had Alice been human, I'd be wounding her, if not worse. Thank goodness she isn't human. I graze my mouth against hers, urging her to part her lips. She smiles against my kiss but resists. I let out a growl, but she still refuses to accommodate. I trace my tongue against the seams of her lips, demanding entry, demanding to taste her. Her hand slides from my cheek and down my throat. When both hands find my chest, I begin to feel a pressure. No! I'm not nearly satiated.

Alice edges away, but I only pull her closer. She lets out a laugh, so lighthearted it almost feels like a taunt. I glare at her for cutting my pleasure so short, but it melts under her gaze. I can see the mischief gleaming in her honey-brown irises, wondering what she has in store for me.

She applies more pressure against my chest. It takes me another second before I realize she isn't pushing me away; she's pushing me back. I let her, watching her eyes the entire way. My calves hit the side of her bed and another push eases me down on its edge. Finally seeming satisfied with where I am, her hands draw back. I reach for her, but Alice takes another step away. I frown. What is she trying to do? How long does she plan on playing with me? I search her expression. Her lips are curved into a smile, soft and swollen from my kisses. Hints of rose color her cheeks, but there is no shyness on her face. Her eyes give nothing to the thoughts in her mind, save the warm and thoroughly seductive glow emanating from them.

Slowly, her hands move to the plates of her jacket and she pulls the sleeves down her arms. The fabric falls at her feet with a light sound.

My head cants to the side in curiosity. Excitement peaks inside my stomach, though I'm not yet sure what for.

Her smile grows at my reaction. Her hands drift up again, and my eyes follow their every move. The fingers skate across her hips, passing along the edge of her jeans before her index and thumb unclasp the button. I hear the sound of the zipper coming apart as she pulls the edges down. The fabric slides against her hips, down her thighs, revealing more of her legs as it falls. Once at her ankles, Alice calmly steps out from her jeans, a few inches closer now.

My throat has become immensely dry. Her gaze cautions patience, and I'm about to lose my mind.

Alice latches onto the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. My breath hitches in my chest. When the shirt falls, she's another step closer, standing between my knees. I look up at her. Without breaking from my gaze, she slides a hand to her back, and the garment around her chest immediately loosens. The straps around her shoulders fall and eventually slide down her arms, dropping to a pile at my feet. All that covers her now is that thin sheet of fabric around her hips.

Alice lays a hand on my shoulder, and I burn at her touch. She pulls up a leg and rests the knee by my hip, then does the same to the other. Lacing both arms around my neck, she lowers herself onto my lap. Her hands glide across my shoulders, trailing downwards until they find mine. My fingers had been crushing the edges of her mattress, I hadn't realized. She raises my left hand to her lips. As she closes her eyes, I feel her soft mouth pass over my knuckles. I hold back a groan, biting down so hard against my teeth it hurts. She then places my hand on her chest, over her heart. I can feel the light drum of each beat, quick but steady. She sets my other hand at her hip before wrapping her arms back at my neck. Her eyes open again at half-mast, and she sets her forehead against mine. A smile tugs at her lips, both inviting and fatal to my cognizance.

"Castiel…"

My body becomes fire at the soft mention of my name. I lift my mouth closer to hers, but I'm also eager to hear more of her voice. She seems to enjoy my approach, tightening her arms around my neck. She tilts her head the tiniest fraction to the side and brings my focus back to her gaze. She's mesmerizing, disastrously so; nothing in the world could possibly compete for my attention. Her lips part again and the succulent voice drifts into my consciousness, "My offer to you… but only if you want to…"

A shimmer of clarity rings in my mind and I study her visage.

There are never such feelings in Heaven. Intimacy, desire, partnership of an amorous degree. None exists because such sentiments are never needed. There was trust, order, and stability, and for eons, it was enough, it was my world, and it was all I expected to know… but now… with Alice in my life, with me right now… _offering herself to me…_ My mind incinerates.

She smiles at me, warm and inviting. I catch a similar curiosity in her gaze but coupled with a sliver of trepidation. She's waiting for my response. I brush my thumb across the skin over her heart. The drumming accelerates. My eyes slide to hers, and I see my own desire reflecting in her gaze. Alice is giving me full invitation, and I'd go mad if I didn't accept. My patience disappears and along with it all reasoning. My fingers tighten at her hip, yanking her closer. My mouth is on hers just as she inhales in surprise. I immediately steal the breath away. Her lips are parted at my unexpected advance, and I push my tongue past the entrance. She tastes so sweet, _so sweet…_

I subject her to my rough kisses, moving my mouth ardently over hers. The woman is delicious, warm and so, so soft. My fingers map a path across her skin, trailing the curves of her hip, her waist, her torso and her breasts, wanting to memorize her form, wanting to possess every fiber of her. _God._ I want her so much it's driving me to insanity. My hunger enflames, and I move my mouth down her throat. She lets out a moan and the heat singing my veins roars in response. My hands grip her closer to me again. I just want to _feel_ her, to have her _nearer._ She tightens her hold around my neck, tossing her head back so I may further taste her throat. Her breasts and torso press against me and a torrent of need shoots through my body. I suddenly find the fabric at my groin uncomfortably restricting.

Angel as I am; new to this as I may be, sex is not a foreign subject to me. Until recently, it was always just copulation, a natural phenomenon among the living creatures on this planet to procreate and perpetuate survival through evolution. Feelings of want and love were simply temporary chemical unbalances to urge the endeavor.

But this… with Alice at every touch, feel, and taste… all my previous inclinations are reduced to cinders before this current wave of utter longing. My hunger for her is so deep, so ravenous I think even if I swallowed her whole it would not be enough. It _aches_. The want of her, _need_ of her. Alice has to be mine. _Mine!_

My teeth graze her neck, and I suck sharply against her skin. She gasps, her body molding to my form. My fingers afflict her skin, digging at its softness, marveling at its smoothness and craving to explore. My hands splay across her thighs, moving upward to her buttocks. I feel the delicate material covering the last of her, and my fingers only slide past the feeble obstruction. I feel a soft heat as I slip further past the fabric, inching closer until I find her wet velvet center. Her chest heaves, a sound of light surprise rises from her throat. My mouth trails up to her jaw, licking and sucking while my other hand steadies her back. My fingers curl against her folds, delving deeper into her center. The noises she's making sends another aching wave to my groin, and I let out a guttural groan. Despite my body's desperate need to take her right now, I reign myself in. I want to see her face. I pull her towards me while my other hand continues its play. Her cheeks are flushed with color, lips swollen and red. Her eyes are dark and brimming with want. Is there a more alluring sight?

Alice suddenly cries out my name and for an instant, I thought I hurt her. But it isn't pain on her face, it's something much more… exhilarating. I stroke her in the same place again, and it elicits an even higher sound. Marveling at the effect, my fingers continue to stroke, faster, deeper until my hand is wet with her nectar.

Alice is nearing her peak, and I can feel it. With another thrust, she shatters, her voice calling out to me in sweet delirium and raining fire beneath my skin. Her hands clasp my face and her lips crash over mine. What I've done to her seems to have unleashed something just as avid. Her hands slide to my chest, fisting the fabric and tugging at the lapels of my jacket. With an urgent push, she wrenches the jacket down my arms. My lips pull into a smirk at her urgency, but it quickly twists into a growl as I have to let go of her skin only to rip the constricting clothes off me.

Alice is already pulling off the tie, her fingers loosening a path of irritating buttons as they move downward. I yank the remnants of the shirt away, locking my arms around her immediately when they're free. Alice sighs in gratification, and I respond in kind, feeling her skin on mine, her hands exploring my chest and back, free from any obstruction. But she isn't finished yet. Her hands travel to my belt and I hear the sound of the buckle meeting the floor only a second later. Her fingers tear apart the zipper, pulling at the fabric as she frees me. I press my mouth into her throat, groaning against her skin. Her hand grips me and it travels up the length of my erection. I suck in another breath. She then pushes her other hand against my shoulder, holding me back. She snatches my gaze with her own as she raises herself, hovering her warm satin center over me. My fingers dig into her skin, near shaking from the need. As she takes another breath she lowers herself and takes me deep into her. We gasp in unison.

Alice is hot and soft and wet and… resplendent. Her velvet interior clutches me as I fill her, drawing me even deeper. The experience is indescribable, pleasures in intensity that I've never known or could even begin to imagine. _God._ Don't let this end. Never let this end.

Alice shifts her hips, lifting upwards and impales herself on me again. A sound escapes her lips, drunk with rapture. She's driving me insane, drowning my senses in pure ecstasy. I seize her mouth, doling harsh caresses against her lips as she continues to move in motions that ravaged me. I grip her hips, pinning her against me, but still she moves, so languorously and so ineffably gratifying I lose my grasp on reality. I can't even remember my name. There's only Alice and I, our bodies intertwined and connected so absolutely I don't know where I end and she begins. Our breathing quickens, wringing higher and higher up our throats. Her thighs press tight against me as every thrust inside her scorches me red with pleasure. The way she moves— her tight slippery muscles gripping onto my erection with each roll of her hips, retreating then descending— makes my mind go blank. As we move faster, harsher, deeper, our breaths grow shorter and rushed. Her body arches, and I can feel the precipice approach.

Alice's hands have returned to my face, clutching it tightly as her mouth moves against mine. Her pelvis rocks hard against me. I wrench her hips down once more, and lightning ruptures through us. I bury my face in her neck, surrendering to the wave of pleasure that flooded me. Alice's deep inhale surges forth a strident cry, matching the deep rumble of my chest as I came hard inside her. With heavy pants, her body sags against me, having lost all previous vigor.

I encircle her in my arms, still basking in the residual effects of what just was. I turn my head so I may lay kisses on her cheek. My action prompts a breathless laugh. Slowly, she turns within my embrace, trailing her fingers across my back as she looks at me with smug satisfaction. "I hope my precautions were effective?" she says in uneven pants.

My eyes narrow at the cheekiness, but a smirk pulls across my lips nonetheless. "They were," I reply. _Too_ effective.

Alice lets out a laugh, its cadence so full of delight it drives a heated poker of need through my insides. I feather her throat with more kisses.

"And what, pray tell, did you think of that _very human_ experience?" Alice is preening now, wholly too pleased with herself.

I take a deep inhale of her scent and my sigh tickles her skin. "I'm not sure…" I smirk at the immediate shift in her tone.

"Not sure?"

I grab her back and hip, flipping us around so fast she squeaks. Her eyes are wide when I press her back onto the mattress, covering her body with my own. I flash her a mischievous smile of my own. "I would need more than just one undertaking to answer you accurately."

Her eyes sink at half-mast once more as she turns her head, regarding me from the corners of her eyes with the most indulgent expression. "Well then…" she utters, sliding both her thighs up my waist to lock her legs behind my back. "Anything for accuracy." Her arms around my neck pull me down to set her lips upon mine again.

…

I lay on my back while Alice sleeps under my arm. Her head rests in the crook of my shoulder, one arm sprawled across my chest and her legs wrapped around mine. Her breathing is even, and I wonder what she's dreaming of beneath the flutter of her lashes. It's been mere moments since she fell asleep, and as distracting as she is, just by watching her dream, it isn't enough to deter the more grievous thoughts.

I remember holding her outside Bobby's house just hours ago, thinking nothing in the world would be more pleasant. I now have to amend that reflection.

The things we did tonight, the way Alice gave herself to me over and over again at my beckoning, there was more solace and pleasure than I've ever experienced. And when she said those three words again, with her eyes brimming in tears and an expression so tender and vulnerable, I felt a crack inside me. The heart in this body wrenched, painfully… and yet I was filled with a warmth unlike any. It burned stronger than the sun but felt softer than a moonlight glow, and it filled my soul completely. It was happiness and joy, pure to the last drop, and I felt like I could cry. How was she doing this?

Alice shifts in her sleep, pressing her body closer to mine. She moans a little. My arm still locks around her back, and under my fingers, I can feel small goosebumps forming. The woman is feeling cold. I pull the tangled blanket higher up to cover her shoulders. I bring myself to kiss the top of her head, inhaling her scent as I do. I grip her closer to me. A small contented sound escapes the back of her throat, and a smile appears on her lips. Her slumber continues.

I glare into the window by the bed. It would soon be dawn.

Alice had said I wouldn't dare speak the words _'last night on Earth'_ again, and her prediction had struck the target so true it's almost cruel. I don't even want to _think_ the words. Simply dwelling on the notion that tonight may be the last moment I share with Alice sears my veins with agony.

This isn't fair. It's not fair for the world to tear her away just when I've found her. It's not fair that she would show me a life of such joy and brilliance just to have it all dashed hours later. It's _too_ cruel, too _merciless._ And if God is watching all of this… and _allows it_ … My hand trembles, and I can't continue the thought.

But if he did… I'd hate him.


	21. To Enter the Spider's Web

**Hello! As I mentioned in my profile, t** **he next few chapters will have moments when it strays from the original canon story, so I apologize in advance for those who prefer it staying true to the television series.**

 **Still, after my first lemon chapter, I'm a little disappointed at the lack of response (though thank you to** _ **Slothplatoon**_ **for your ever reliable reviews). I was hoping for some insight from my readers: did it work, or should I stay away from it? Where can I improve? _**

 **In any case, here is the new chapter, and in record time too!**

 **Please READ AND THEN REVIEW!**

* * *

You wake to sunlight on your face and the feel of Castiel's warm body pressed to your back. His one arm is wrapped around you while his other hand traces circles down your side. You inhale deeply, relishing his scent and basking in the afterglow of the previous night. The memories bubble against your consciousness like a dream.

When the opportunity first presented itself, you had every intention to _please_ the angel, to have him spiraling into ecstasy under your discretion. And yet, somehow, the night ended up with you being the one ravished instead.

The feel of his tongue on your skin, the caress of his fingers in the most intimate places, and the way he filled you, so hot and immense he had you crying out his name and other obscenities you can't even remember. You had let him love you from above, from below, from behind… A blush burns across your face and well to your ears. You never realized how much stamina an angel had.

Castiel seems to sense your wake and moves to press his lips to the side of your neck. You sigh with pleasure. Although… you are still a bit miffed at how easily you were overwhelmed. _You_ were supposed to be the veteran here; you certainly had more experience, but this _rookie_ had you utterly _conquered._ And as _enjoyable_ as losing the battle had been, your pride seems to have suffered for it. However, you've known that he's a quick learner… for all those kisses you've shared… though you may have momentarily forgotten. And besides, it's not like you can't regain your esteem from a rematch… You turn to face your angel, sending him a playful look of determination.

The light of dawn shines across his visage, illuminating the dazzling blue hue of his irises. Your insides melt, disintegrating all your previous thoughts. He's just so… beautiful.

Castiel leans forward and you receive his kiss with vigor. He lets out a throaty chuckle at your excitement. "Good morning."

"Good morning," you reply, curling against him like a cat after a big bowl of cream. "How long was I asleep?"

He folds his arms around you, rolling so you're beneath him again. He nuzzles your neck, trailing his mouth up and down your throat. You feel the prickling stubble of his facial hair as it teases your skin. You let out a giggle. You feel so _pampered._

"Possibly an hour or so." He breathes across your skin, rippling heat through your insides. "It's still early. You should rest more." His hands run down your body, sliding across your hips and thighs while he nibbles at your neck, making it mighty difficult for you to rest. You know _he knows_ this, of course.

"Funny. You say that, but why do I get the distinct impression you're suggesting something else."

You feel him smile against your throat. He raises his head above yours, his eyes burning softly as he gazes at you. The heat surges through you again. He lowers his mouth slowly over yours, feathering kisses that barely touch you. You arch your back, pushing against his weight as you're lured by the bait. Those teasing caresses are driving you mad.

He obliges you for a moment, only to pull back and touch his mouth to your forehead. He then shifts his weight off you but still keeps both arms firmly locked around you. Despite the restraints, you're quite comfortable, albeit scorching with desire.

"Sleep," he commands, "you should recover as much energy as possible while you can." Though his voice is calm, desperation flickers through his gaze, passing so quickly the calm smile he now wears almost fools you.

You raise a hand to his face and trace a finger between the center of his brow, smoothing out the crinkle. He closes his eyes at your touch. He takes your hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing the inside of your wrist. Castiel is being unusually affectionate. You don't know if this behavior is because of last night or of what is to come today. You had hoped your actions would imbue the angel with more optimism, or at least offer another incentive to succeed. Mayhap your precaution worked a little _too_ well? The words "what's wrong" linger on your tongue, but why ask when you already know? Instead, you abandon the thought for something more practical. Breaking free of his arms, you pull upright and seat yourself upon his torso. Your hands splay across his chest, and you grin down at his look of surprise.

"I don't know about you, but I'm actually quite rested." You place a finger on his lips when he begins to protest. "I already told you I don't need as much sleep as humans. An hour is more than enough. Besides, I garner most of my strength from the sun, which I'm getting plenty of right where I am. …Almost too much…" Your eyes trail to the side while your finger slides from his lips to his throat. Castiel shivers beneath your touch. "I wonder what I should do with all this _extra_ energy…"

Castiel moves so fast you let out a gasp. Before you realize, he's straightened to your eye-level and with his hands on your thighs, moved you so you're straddling his hips instead. You blink at his sudden proximity and he grins. You smile, passing your hands slowly up his chest, over his broad shoulders and around his neck. He brings his mouth next to your ear and whispers, "I may have a few ideas."

Your grin at the guttural baritone of his voice. "Pray, do enlighten me—"

His lips crash over yours before you can finish. His hands slide to your buttocks, lifting you then lowering you again, continuing where you left off hours before…

When you finally gather enough lucidity to note the time, there are only 15 minutes left before you're both due to meet the others. You had caught the numbers off the screen of your cellphone, laying on the floor a foot from the bed, and immediately pull yourself off of Castiel. The angel is less than happy with your retreat and snatches your hands just as you start to pull away. You call out his name in warning, but he only pulls you down and pins you, covering your mouth with his. As delighted as you are by his actions, you know your priorities and try to urge some rationality into him.

Castiel is obstinate as ever, and if you aren't so hard-pressed to remind him of today's significance, you'd be shocked by how adamant he seems on ignoring his obligations. Before long, it becomes a tug-of-war wrestle on the bed until you finally have him pinned under you.

"Cass! We're going to be late!" you half-shouted at him with severity.

Focus finally returns to his gaze, and the two of you start to dress. After you've made yourself decent, you look over to see Castiel fumbling with his tie and his hair _thoroughly_ tousled from all the times you've run your fingers through it. You bite back a smile and the trickling longing deep in your belly to help him with the tie.

As your fingers move deftly across the blue fabric, you can feel his gaze on you. You do your best to ignore it and lace the tie into its appropriate knot. You may have used more time than necessary and you're ashamed to admit the accidental brush of your fingers across his throat might not have been _that_ accidental.

Fast as lightning, you're maneuvered backward, crushed between Castiel's chest and the wall. His mouth moves so rushed and violently against yours that you hardly have a chance to speak.

"What… about… the others?" you ask between breaths.

Castiel rips the jeans down your legs. You felt the zipper break but you don't care. When your legs are bare, he pulls your thighs past his waist, his chest pressing hard against your breasts. "They'll just have to wait." He sets his mouth on yours, silencing you of any more objections.

…

"You're late."

 _Only by 30 minutes…_ you think. Bowing your head with chagrin, you apologize in earnest. "We're sorry! Really. Lost track of time." You will yourself not to blush.

With appetites temporarily satiated, you knew you'd be facing Dean's snark. You curse yourself for being so weak-willed to Castiel's constant temptations, at which point, you begin to realize even _if_ he didn't know how to work the tie, you've seen him fix his attire with a simple wave of his hand.

Pursing your lips, you shoot the angel an accusing glare, which he immediately dodges by looking away, feigning ignorance.

 _That sly little…_ He was pretending! …And you completely fell for it.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Dean rolls his eyes and tosses a duffle bag your way. You catch it before setting it into the trunk of the Impala.

Jo passes you with a suggestive look and quivering lips, trying to hold back her laughter. She carries a heavy case of ammo towards the SUV where Ellen is re-checking the inventory.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. We're not finished packing anyways." Sam says from beside you. His gaze is focused on the magazines he's loading, but you don't miss the sly smirk he has on his face. Finished with the third weapon, he locks it back down in its compartment. "Do you have all your gear prepared?" he asks after giving you a once-over.

Unlike the others, you have maintained your no gun preference. And now that you no longer require the habitual forms of nourishment, you really don't have much to prepare. You do, however, have the pouch of seeds that Maggie delivered tied at your waist. You pat the small sack and grin in reply. "Yep. Got all I need right here."

Dean walks over to you with what seems to be the last of what's needed. He yanks open the back passenger door and throws a backpack in. "What's in there, marbles? Gonna challenge the devil to a game of keepsies?"

You decide to ignore his snide tone. From the persisting pinch in his brows, you imagine he's under the effects of a hangover. "They're plant seeds," you answer with a tightlipped smile.

"So the plan is to scare him away with your planting abilities?" He quirks an eyebrow and raises his hand in mock alarm. "Look out! She's got a garden shovel, and she's not afraid to use it!"

Sam's shoulder quakes with suppressed laughter.

"For goodness sake," you mutter under your breath. Taking a step forward, you press your palm to his chest and glare at him. " _El'ital._ "

Dean bristles at your contact, and no sooner does the word leave your lips, the air around him shifts. Droplets of water begin to form across his skin, quickly disappearing as his pores absorb the moisture. When you retract your hand, Dean is staring at you with surprise.

You fold your arms. "Better?"

Dean blinks. He then pats his hands down his body, feeling for any abnormalities. "Ugh… yeah. Loads. Thanks."

Sam's body relaxes. "What did you do?" he asks.

"I'm may not be a healer, but I can still fix hangovers."

Bobby wheels himself out from the garage just as you mouth the last syllable. He doesn't seem to have heard.

Sam slaps a hand on your shoulder in acknowledgment and moves to give the old hunter his farewell. Dean and Ellen slam the trunks of their cars down at the same time, then follow in Sam's footsteps. Before long, Bobby is crowded with everyone's attention and starts to scowl with bashful impatience. "All right already, get your asses on the road for goodness sake."

As previously decided, you get into the Impala with Sam and Dean while Castiel rides with Jo and Ellen.

Transporting everyone via spells is possible, but without the knowledge of what would be waiting on the other side, the suggestion was quickly abandoned. And to avoid ambush as well as provide additional protection, Dean specifically demanded for Castiel to go in the other car. If anything happened, he'd be able to whisk the two women to safety in an instant while you would provide sufficient security for the Winchesters. Castiel didn't seem too thrilled with the idea, and as he climbs into the back seat of the SUV he looks over to you with his lips pressed in a dismal line.

You smile apologetically at him, adoring the pout. You had given his hand a reassuring squeeze before separating, but you wish you kissed him instead.

When you slam the door shut, you roll down the window to wave goodbye to Bobby.

"Y'all better stay alive! Ya, hear?"

Sam and Dean give their own waves before Dean pulls the Impala off the driveway and down the road. Jo and Ellen follow soon after. You watch the old hunter from the back window before the car turns again and cuts Bobby out of view. When you face the front, you catch Dean's smirk off the rearview mirror. You raise an eyebrow at the look.

"What?"

"So… how'd it feel deflowering an angel?"

Of course, the man couldn't wait to taunt you. He must've thought you were trying to peek at Castiel through the back window instead of Bobby.

Sam shifts in his seat, looking like he can't decide whether to feel bothered or amused.

You send Dean an impassive stare. "Like I died and went to Heaven."

The hunter gives a snorting laugh. "How appropriate."

You roll your eyes at the childishness and glance at the passing landscape. You'll soon be exiting Sioux Falls, and with how small the town is, much of the area is surrounded by forestry.

"I'll need to give my props to Cass, didn't know he had it in him." Dean snickers. "Seeing how he was with _Chasity_ and all…"

Your eyes flash at the mention of the name, drudging up memories of the night you caught the two of them at the call house. You suppose that must be the name of the screaming woman that stomped away from Cass in the hall. Too bad for her… Your lips twitch into a smirk.

"And what about you, Dean? Were you able to give some meaning to Jo's last night on Earth?"

Sam splutters into laughter while all humor drains from Dean's face. You catch his scowls in the mirror and he quickly snaps at his brother to shut the hell up. You narrow your eyes at his expression. There is a clear annoyance and maybe a touch of humiliation, but mostly acceptance.

 _No way._

You shoot Sam a look of surprise. He catches it and returns a smug shrug. Your mouth out a silent "wow" as you glance past your shoulder to the car behind you.

You had noticed Jo's attraction to Dean upon minutes of meeting her, and you know Dean must be aware of it on some level. You guess the man was caught somewhere between viewing her as a sister and viewing her as a woman. Your respect for Jo rises to new heights, God knows you certainly weren't resilient enough.

Sighing, you fumble around your jacket until you find the hidden pocket you had tailor-made. You usually keep a few bills in there in case of emergencies. Digging around, you find two fifties and pull it out. Sam has already stretched out an open palm between the space of the two front seats. You slap the bills into his hand a little spitefully and frown at his brother. "You disappoint me, Dean."

"What the—" He jerks bewildered looks from you to Sam. "Did you guys make a bet about me?"

"Yep," Sam replies, sliding the bills into his pocket with pompous satisfaction, completely profiting at the expense of his brother.

"And you bet _against_ me?"

"Yeeeep."

Dean glares at the man next to him, a face full of betrayal and umbrage.

You give an offhanded shrug. "So much for your game."

"You guys are assholes."

That earned a genuine laugh out of you and Sam.

…

As the journey progresses, the levity trickles away in exact correlation to your destination's approach. When Carthage comes into view, you sharpen and spread your senses, trying to feel for what awaits you. Your expression strains when something repels you.

"What is it?" Sam asks, "What are you sensing?"

You grip onto the edge of the driver's backrest, trying to push past the hazy barrier that obstructs your senses. When you can't find any openings, you pull back with a frustrated sigh. "I know something's there, but I'm blocked." Your jaw clamps. "It feels like the same spell Crowley used, but stronger. It's covering the entire area."

"Not exactly a good start," Dean mutters.

"Maybe you'll be able to sense something once we're in the town," Sam offers more optimistically.

You nod, but the idea doesn't seem convincing to you.

As the Impala pulls off the freeway and onto the main road, your eyes widen at the sight.

"There's no one here. It's like a ghost town," Sam says as he and Dean scan the surroundings.

The windows and walls of passing buildings are covered with posters and signs. Large bolded letters of "Have you seen this person? Please Call" and strange religious annotations fill your vision. But other than the vacancy of human activities, the town would still appear relatively normal to the average eye.

"Where the hell is everyone? There are only supposed to be six people missing."

Your lips quiver. With a voice barely above a whisper, you say, "…Reapers."

Dean and Sam jerk their attention to you. "Where?" Sam asks.

"Everywhere…"

Horror strikes his visage.

You try to count the number of reapers present but they're endless. The pit of your stomach crawls with dread. You can't remember the last time you saw so many…. Your expression grows dark. _No… that's a lie. Weren't there just as many reapers when the_ Wikkōn _decimated those human cities and villages?_ But something's different. Your eyes scan the stoic faces of these apparitions, all cloaked in the same black garbs. Every reaper is immobile, standing with perpetual patience and an odd sort of reverence. Why are they so motionless? Even the great gathering of reapers during _that_ time _wandered_ every so often. Your instincts prick with tension.

Dean clicks his tongue. Glowering through the front window, he pulls the car into a stall in the middle of the road. He takes out his cellphone, scowling when the words "no service" appear on the screen. He stretches his arm out the window, raising the phone into the air to see if he can catch anything.

Sam looks over to his brother. "You getting a signal?"

Dean flips the phone shut. "No, nothing. Just _great._ "

You frown, but you can't help admiring the fastidious planning. It'd be quite the efficient maneuver for Lucifer to cut out the cell towers; isolate the town from the rest of the world.

Ellen pulls the SUV next to the Impala with the window down on Jo's side. "Place seem a little empty to you?"

You catch Castiel's gaze through the tinted windows. From the grave expression and the back and forth glances, he's seeing the same thing you are.

Dean gives a distracted nod of acknowledgment, keeping a vigilant eye on the scenery. "We're gonna go check out the PD." His sends a quick but sharp look to the angel. "You guys stay here— see if you can find anybody." _Protect them_ , he's saying.

Castiel nods, unbeknownst to the two women in the front seats.

A part of you nags to stay together, but you can't sense any immediate danger… You clamp down on your jaw as Dean pulls the Impala away, keeping a mask of wary determination over the rumbling panic that quivers just beneath.

Ellen and Jo are capable hunters and Castiel is just as formidable without his powers. They'll be fine. They'll be _fine._

Dean puts more and more distance between you and the others. You can feel the block shroud the signal of their energies, and before your eyes can lose them, you already can't _feel_ them. It seems, your senses still function within the limits of a certain radius. A few meters at most? Disheartening, but it still provides you with a much-needed cushion of time to react. One exception captures your awareness. Despite the disorienting, invisible fog, Castiel's light remains bright in your mind. And as long as you can feel him, your heart beats steady.

How curious this effect is. You aren't sure why you can constantly pinpoint his presence. Is it because of how you feel about him; because he's so important to you? The suggestion seems laughable even to your own mind. If this is so, then why can't you sense Dean or Sam with the same heightened acuity? Why can't you sense Maggie or the other _guardians_ even when you're tied so intrinsically to each other through your oaths? You can't find a rational reason for this occurrence, and yet the link stays strong. What makes Castiel so special?

The Impala swerves by the curb in front of the local police station. The street remains void of people. Not even birds or the odd stray can be found. Everything is eerily silent.

As the three of you get out of the car, Sam looks to your grimacing expression. "Anything?"

You let out a strained sigh and drop your hand from your temple. You reply with a grim shake of your head. Just as you feared, the barrier persists. Worse still, even as you're within its borders, the static that hinders your senses has only grown. It's like trying to force through layers and layers of bubble wrap, every time you push, the image beyond only distorts then pushes you back.

You enter the station, scanning the building for signs of life. The desks and counters are placed in functional arrangements. The computer screens are on but asleep. Paperwork and various office supplies are strewn about the surfaces, but nothing's out of place.

"Is anyone here?!" Dean shouts across the room. You wait, but only silence answers. Everyone continues to search, rifling through the paperwork and computer screens for some kind of explanation.

You find an open tab of surveillance recordings of the building. Rewinding to the data a few days past, you watch as the officers and staff move about and behave as any normal police station would. You fast forward the video.

As the hours rolled into the night, more and more people left, leaving only the overnight crew to man the station: two officers and one desk member. They worked and walked about normally. When the hours grew to morning, their interactions with each other increased and they started to make a few phone calls. At around 6AM, the two officers leave. An hour later, so does the desk member. After that, all that appears on the screen is the same vacant office you see now. You stop the video.

"Anything?" Dean asks you and Sam when he returns from the upper floor.

Sam shakes his head. "There's no sign of panic or anything else unusual. It's as if everyone just got up one day and left."

"The tapes didn't tell me much either. All it shows are the staff leaving after their shifts. The last crew seemed a bit confused when no one came back to replace them. The time stamp was three days ago. The rest is just… empty building." You walk out from behind the front desk and join them.

Dean rubs the back of his neck in annoyance. He sighs. "Didn't find much upstairs either. There were a few nudie mags hidden in odd places, some contraband. Everything else was normal in the evidence room."

You turn towards the entrance, looking past the windows. A few meters away, you feel Ellen and Jo's energies approach. You don't know why Castiel isn't with them. "Jo and Ellen are here."

Walking out with the brothers, you greet the oncoming vehicle.

"Station's empty," Dean says when the car stops in front of him.

Jo lowers her head to meet your gazes next to her mother. "So's everything else."

You look away from the women, tracking your focus in the direction of your angel's energy. It's coming from further west of the town. Your mind trails back to the map you memorized. It's mostly old apartments, a few townhouses.

"Have you guys seen Cass?"

You snap your attention to Ellen. She doesn't know? How did they separate?

"What?" Sam is just as bewildered. "He was with you."

"Nope, he went after the reapers."

Dean swears under his breath. "God dammit, Cass."

You look over to the brothers in alarm. If he left, he shouldn't have stayed away for more than a moment. You steel yourself. His light is still strong, nor has the connection flickered or faded. You lower yourself to the women's eyelevel. "How long has he been missing?"

Ellen and Jo exchange a look. "He left almost right after you did."

You clench your teeth. He definitely should have returned by now.

Sam sees your strained expression and lays a hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll find him."

You nod and swallow back the anxious lump in your throat. "I can still sense his energy. It's coming from that general direction." You point down past the buildings.

Sam's brows pucker. "You can sense him?" He's about to say something but decides against it. "That's good news. Lead the way," he glances at the others for affirmation. "We'll leave immediately."

With all the weapons and ammunition everyone can carry, you tread the streets on foot, leading the group at the helm. With one of your security measures gone, it's now up to you to provide protection. As much as you want the speed of the vehicles, even if all of you were pushed together into one car, you aren't sure you would be able to provide ample defense moving at such a velocity and with your senses blind. At least, on foot, it'll be easier to detect approaching threats.

"Well, this is great." Dean grunts behind you, "We've been in town for 20 minutes and we've already lost the angel up our sleeve." You know the man is angry with Castiel. He had wanted the angel to stick by Ellen and Jo at all times, but declaring his intentions out loud would only have insulted the two huntresses. And so you bite your tongue as well.

"You think maybe Lucifer…" Sam trails off. He wanted to ease some of the blame off of the angel for your sake but realized half-way the alternative is much more painful.

Dean tsks, completely oblivious to your emotions. "I don't know what else to think."

You bristle when the dark energy assaults your senses. Veering to the right, you throw out your arms as a physical barrier. "Stop! Get behind me!"

Your allies are just as shocked by your sudden shriek. With weapons raised, they shuffle backward. Their battle ready senses hone in on the target standing only meters down the intersection from you. You don't understand how you missed it. They're in the middle of the road in broad daylight with nothing to obscure them. Did they teleport? You shake away the useless thoughts. There's six… no… eight of them. Bodies made of pulsing black energy, deranged empty eyes and snarling muzzles, stand in wait. Each dark creature paws avidly into the ground beneath them, their madness and bloodlust just barely reigned back. What to do? How do you protect your friends? A number of possible spells races across your mind, your fingers twitch towards the seed pouch.

"There you are." A woman of a petite figure walks forward from behind two raging beasts. Her clothing is ordinary; leather jacket, violet blouse, and jeans, but the attire emphasizes a certain edge to her appearance. She looks to be in her mid to late twenties, oval face, framed with rolling chestnut hair and bright eyes. You would even say she's pretty. If only her visage isn't twisted by the malevolent shadow puppeteering her body.

"Meg!" Sam growls, momentarily distracting you. You think you've heard the name before. Was she the one responsible for Bobby's paraplegia?

Meg grins. "You shouldn't have come here, boys."

Your back pricks from the sudden rage bursting from one of the members behind you.

"Yeah? Well, I could say the same thing for you." Dean immediately pushes past your arm and raises the Colt to the woman's face.

"No!" You grab the man's shoulder to stop him. He tries to shake you off.

Meg chuckles darkly. "You should listen to your friend, Dean-o. I didn't come alone."

A growl rips out from the dark beast beside her. It rakes the ground in anticipation.

Everyone stumbles back, bodies tenser than twisted steel.

Dean visibly falters, but years of hunter experience kicks in and false bravado strengthens his voice. "Hellhounds," he says as casually as he can, but the flicker of grimace gives him away. His display of forced nonchalance seems to entertain the demoness, and her eyes shine at the spectacle.

"Yeah, Dean. Your favorite."

You take the opportunity and snake your fingers into the pouch at your waist while Dean distracts her. You dig out a dozen seeds, clutching them tight in your fist as your mind runs a mile a minute to formulate an escape. A part of your attention has been spent tracking the hellhounds' movements. Two of them have already started to circle behind your group. The ones poised near your front snarl and bark.

 _Clever._ The hellhounds are invisible to human eyes, but their footfalls are heavy. The noise induces fear in your group and distracted the others from the encroaching sneak attack from behind. Your fist full of seeds trembles at readiness. There's four hellhounds in front of you, two to the sides and two in the back. You'd have to time this correctly. You glance back at the others, signaling for them to watch their six.

"C'mon boys. My father wants to see you." A hint of sobriety leaks into her voice, but her face is smug with confidence. She thinks she's won.

Sam angles his back further towards the group, defending the side at your warning. "I think we'll pass. Thanks." He shouts out.

"Your call. You can make this easy…" The edges of her lips twitch with excitement. "Or you can make it really, _really_ hard." _Please make it hard_ , her eyes seem to say.

Dean glances at you and you give a subtle downward tilt of your head. Your attention returns to your assailants as you leave Dean to relay the silent instructions to the rest of the group. You feel the immediate coil of preparation from every hunter at your back.

Meg sets her gaze on you and a knowing smirk appears. So she's aware of what you are, possibly even of what you can do to an extent. You'll just have to see how well she wears that confidence once Dean gives the signal.

"When have you known us to ever make anything easy?" Dean turns back to Meg, and he clicks a bullet into the chamber.

Meg's grin widens. Your muscles tense. Dean holds his position then abruptly switches the aim to the hellhound at her feet.

 _Click_ and _Boom._ The bullet hits the beast's leg, sending it howling in agony.

"Run!" Sam yells out.

You unlock the floodgates in your body, sending a tidal wave of energy into your fist. Smashing the hand into the asphalt, you roar out, _"Esséhalm ius világ, Infectatum!"_

A ripple of energy surges through the earth. The hellhounds yip and howl when the power rips through them. Meg staggers from the out-flux, but when nothing seems to happen, she straightens and barks out a laugh.

The ground beneath you rumbles, and just as the grin begins to fall from Meg's face, a jagged chasm rips across the street, shooting towards the demoness.

Meg jumps back, narrowly missing the fissure.

More and more rifts carve out under your hand, slicing through the earth as if it could no longer contain your weight. You can taste the silent shock in the air, but your senses are much too overwhelmed by the boundless power flooding your veins. This is strength, this is dominance, this is _exhilaration._

The earth cracks. You catch the look of fear in the demon's eyes before thick twisting arms burst from below, soaring meters into the air and whipping serpentine limbs in every direction. When the growth finally stills, the creature has accumulated monstrous dimensions. The violent whipping slows, revealing its true appearance. Robust arms become branches, blooming with lush green trails, and serpentine limbs become dense roots, slithering and gouging into the earth. A massive willow has emerged, towering over the nearby buildings with its sheer size and its body curling protectively after the four hunters on the ground.

 _"_ _Inhakïm!"_ You cry, standing atop one of the thickest roots at the base and willing the colossal plant to bend to your command. Another rumble thunders through the sky as if the willow has cried out itself. The branches surge forth and slash at the multiple hellhounds. The beasts snarl and howl when they're caught, their bodies twisting and muzzles snapping as the branches coil and strangle.

You set your sight on the demoness, and she flinches when she catches your gaze. Meg stumbles back and quickly whirls around to escape. You jerk your arm towards her and a trio of roots shoot after the demon.

"Dean!" The cry stops you cold, and all previous elation washes away. You search for your friends, eyes widening when you find a hellhound on the older Winchester. A buckshot blows it back. How had you missed it? You were sure you got them all.

"Jo! Stay back!" Dean pleads, but the woman continues to pummel the crazed beast with more rounds.

Your eyes flit to the number of hellhounds seized by the willow and horror crashes into you. There are much more than eight. Five additional dark beasts circle your friends and the closest one is leaping for Jo. You thrust a hand forward, but the willow answers a fraction too late. The hellhound tears the young huntress into the ground and sinks its ragged teeth into her abdomen, ripping blood and flesh into the air.

A shrieking cry splits the sky, flooding your eardrums with pain and agony.

"No!" Ellen screams.

More shots ring out before the branches thrash the hellhound off of Jo. Dean sprints towards her and yanks her into his arms. They race for the bricked building meters away, Sam and Ellen shooting wildly around their perimeter as Dean scrambles through the door. You rush after them, bounding through the air and landing at their side in a single leap.

"Get inside!" You yell at Sam as he continues to wait for you. He doesn't refuse you a second time and disappears through the threshold. You launch your arms forward and wrench them back, drawing the titan body of the willow to you. The ground quakes under its movement, its roots diving and exploding through cement in its crawl. You continue to concentrate a portion of the limbs on deflecting the remaining hellhounds, keeping the monsters at bay. When the willow's main body finally reaches you, you conduct the trunk to bow over the building, winding every thick green vine, branch, and root around the bricked exterior. As the plant closes in, shrouding the building in a cocoon of protection, you retreat back through the open door, locking it shut when the plant stills. Darkness encompasses the shelter, not even a crack of light reaches through. Outside, you can still hear the enraged snarls and thrashing, but they're distant and might as well be futile.

An arm yanks you back as Sam pushes past you with a ripped bag of de-icing salt. You hear the sound of sand like scattering as he pours the contents by the door, but your attention is with Dean.

"Help her!" He pushes you towards the woman sprawled against the back of the room, weak and bleeding onto the tiles. Her mother hovers over her, placing layers and layers of cotton bandages over her wound. She holds down against the gash with trembling hands, watching helplessly as the bottom layers soak through.

"It's all right. Just breathe, honey. Just breathe."

"I'm fine," Jo slurs out, her voice nearly incoherent. The woman's face is leached of all color and the previous vibrant hue of her lips has turned to ashen gray. Jo breathes in slow whimpering gasps, and even as her lifeblood drains away, she does her best to hide the pain.

Ellen tears her eyes away from her dying child and stares at you with desperation. "Is there anything you can do?"

The anguish in her voice lurches you back to reality. You drop to your knees at Jo's right side and survey the damage. "Can you lift the bandages? I need to see."

There's a silent beat before Ellen starts to move again. With shaking hands, she peels away the edge of the dressing and reveals the guzzling macabre underneath. Bits of skin hang uselessly at the flayed edges, nerve endings sliced and quivering. The hellhound had been able to dig quite deeply into her abdomen, exposing the lower bits of her ribs and intestine. You grit your teeth as the mess.

First things first. You'll need to stop the blood flow, but there are so much blood and torn flesh you can't make out where most of the leak is coming from. From the looks of the bandages, she'll lose consciousness soon. You place a hand over her core, just above the wound, and send a flood of energy through her body. What normally would have elicited a physical reaction, Jo barely seems to notice. She must be number than you hoped. You clench your eyes shut, focusing on tracking the flow of energy. Your aura swims across her organs and trickles into her veins. When the signal echoes back, you're able to gather an overall assessment of her condition. Luckily, the abdominal aorta was spared, but the renal arteries weren't so fortunate.

You grab onto Ellen's hand to secure her attention. Her face is just as pale as her daughter's. "Can you trust me to take over?"

Her lips quiver. "Do right by her, please."

You nod, and the woman takes her hand away. You immediately pull the bandage off and reveal the gash for the room to see. Harsh gasps sound from behind you.

"This might hurt," you mumble in case Jo is still lucid. Pressing your fingers to the largest leak, you send a wave of heat through your hand, burning the ends and cauterizing the arteries. Jo lets out a frail gasp. You then move on to close the remaining veins until your hands are slick with red. You've now bought yourself a bit more time. Next, the gash needs to be covered to lock in moisture and stave off infection. But, you can't regrow cells. You could take what you can from the surrounding flesh and the hanging bits near the edge but it won't be enough. Your eyes snap to her mother. If you can't regrow cells, why not take them from another?

"What is it?" Ellen asks worriedly.

"I need to recreate some basic coverage over the wound, but I need your skin— your cells to be exact to—"

"Anything!" She answers before you can finish. "As long as you save her."

Sam and Dean come up next to you. "You can use our bodies too—"

You shake your head. "It has to be someone who shares her genetics, or it may cause problems later on. I can't modify DNA or cells on a molecular level."

Ellen grabs hold of your wrist. "I'm willing to give anything. Whatever it takes..."

You nod. "Lift up your sleeve. I'll be taking bits of flesh off your arm. It's not going to be pleasant." When Ellen bares her arm, you lay a bloodied hand over it while your other hovers above Jo's injury. Closing your eyes, you dip into the well of power deep inside your body and lace the energy into the incantation. Healing still remains your weakest skill, yet once again, you find yourself depending on the mediocre ability you bear. However, this time, you'll make sure you'll not fail. The words spiral from your lips, invoking the extraction of resources from one body and transferring them into the mending of another.

Ellen gasps out, but you keep your grip on her arm. You don't break focus, for this spell needs a steady flow of delivery and intricate instruction until the entire process is complete. More and more of Ellen's skin flakes away, revealing tendons and muscle as the spell gnaws up her arm. On Jo's body, the rips of useless flesh have already been integrated into the thin film of membrane that now grows to cover the wound. The soft pink, almost elastic like skin weaves together, taking minute advances. Your mouth continues to move incessantly to carry the spell while your face scrunches in concentration. Minutes tick away, you have no idea how long it's been. An hour? Two? Maybe more. Your mind strains on the healing of Jo's body, suppressing the urge of all other thoughts. When the gash finally closes, you open your eyes.

Ellen is trembling, barely conscious and held upright by Sam who's sitting next to her. Her right arm looks excoriated and shriveled all the way to the shoulder. Under your hand, throbbing red tissue and uneven muscle overlay her bones. It's a gruesome sight and an even more gruesome experience. You're surprised the woman didn't scream. Glancing at her face, you realize Ellen had been biting her lips to hold back the cries. Like mother like daughter. Blood leaks from her mouth.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Ellen asks feebly.

For now, you want to say, but you only nod. Sometime during your spell, Jo drifted into unconsciousness. Though her breathing is still weaker than you prefer, it's steady, as is her heartbeat. Taking your bloodied hand off of Ellen's arm, you move it to her shoulder. Whispering more ancient words, you cover the arm with a temporary seal, numbing her pain but not the function. Ellen sighs and nearly collapses onto Sam when the suffering leaves her.

You retract your hand and let out a sigh of your own. "That should protect your arm for now."

"What about my daughter?"

You glance down to examine your work. Instead of the previously eviscerated lesion, a thin layer of skin masks the opening. Translucent and springy, you can still see the flesh and organs below, however, it will suffice in keeping her body strong enough to start its natural healing process. But Jo still needs a hospital… and a blood transfusion. You push against the ground to stand up, catching Dean's gaze along the way. He reads your expression, and you read the emotions that then laps into his: relief, anger, frustration, and desperation. If Castiel were here, he could have taken the women away to safety. But the angel is still a mile away, his light pulsing strong in the recesses of your mind, and the two female hunters remain trapped and in no condition for battle.

Sam eases Ellen's back next to Jo's, and the mother pulls her daughter's head onto her lap. She strokes Jo's hair with her uninjured hand. Standing up as well, Sam motions for you to regroup a few paces away from the women. It's only now that you realize you're taking refuge inside a convenience store. Racks upon racks of food, products and other miscellaneous but useful materials line the room. Store of convenience indeed.

"So what now?" Sam asks.

You lay a hand on the wall next to you, fatigued more mentally than physically. "They need to go to a hospital. They're in no shape to fight."

"And how the hell do we do that? The only person who can poof in and out has completely taken off." Dean growls.

You glare at him and he sends it right back. He's frustrated, you know, but the acidic comments don't curb your anger any less.

"Salt lines are holding up." Sam interrupts.

Dean eases back, pinning you with one more glare before tearing his eyes away. "Yeah, safe for now."

"What did Bobby say?" Sam continues to lead the discussion onto something more unifying.

Dean leans onto the wall and runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing good. Apparently, our prince of darkness is looking to unleash another horseman, Death, to be exact."

Your eyes widen. "That's why there were so many reapers waiting." You remember the look of reverence on their faces. "Death is their god." You frown. "But why here? Why this town?"

"Remember Cass's history notes? This town's got a past. There was a civil war here, Battle of Carthage. It was a total bloodbath, which is just what's needed to attract Death here."

You mull over Dean's explanation. It all _sounds_ viable. You think back to the notes, trying to recall more details. The history books have dictated that only 200 soldiers were lost and injured. Castiel had revealed it was not the case. Over 6000 men engaged in the battle, and the fighting had been so brutal half the numbers were cut down. And though the skirmishes raged in multiple parts of the town, there was one area where the death toll was highest.

"William Jasper's farm is where the whole thing will go down."

Your eyes flicker to meet Dean's again. "And did Bobby say when?"

"Midnight."

Sam looks at his watch. A little more than two hours. "That's not long." His gaze switches from you and Dean. "Do you guys have any suggestions?" He pauses, his eyes darting to Ellen and Jo. "We could wait here, wait it out. With the willow covering the place, the hellhounds won't be getting in anytime soon."

Dean shakes his head. "We'll only be sitting ducks. We know Lucifer's _here._ That's why we came. We have to take this chance. And besides, Lucifer probably knows we're here as well, and if we wait here while he raises Death, what are the chances of us surviving for long?"

The same irritation starts to rise in Sam. "What are you proposing we do then? We can't just leave—" Sam looks over to the women before lowering his voice. "We can't leave Ellen and Jo. And we can't take them with us to fight against Lucifer either."

Dean scowls at his brother. "Don't you think I know that?"

Sam purses his lips at the snappish tone.

You raise your head, having gained enough time to deliberate while they argued. "I suppose we can officially call this an _emergency._ "

Dean shoots you an exasperated look for saying something so redundant, but it falters before your calm visage. You dig into your pouch and produce the folded piece of paper. You unravel the parchment and show the boys. "Maggie gave me her summoning seal in case of _emergencies._ She'll be able to take Ellen and Jo safely out of here and get them to a hospital. Once they're gone, you guys go find Lucifer." You roll back your shoulders and stare at the entrance door. "I'll take care of the hellhounds."

~Dean's P.O.V.~

"Whatever you do, don't let go of my arm."

I watch, dumbfounded, as Maggie, the unbelievably gorgeous and _inhuman_ friend of Alice, carries Jo in her arms like she weighs nothing more than pillow while giving further instruction to Ellen. "You're going to feel some dizziness and vertigo, and you'll think you're drowning. But continue to breathe normally and hold onto me. We're crossing dimensions, and it's easy to get lost."

Just like that day with Gabriel, this woman had shot out of a puddle on the floor, clad in a deep purple dress and high heels. There's a necklace on her neck, made of ruby or garnet (I don't know which) and it dips into the valley between her breasts. I blink and shake my head. Focus, Dean. I lower my gaze to the puddle at her feet. Alice had emptied three water bottles onto the tiles, thrown that paper with the weird markings into it, and _summoned_ her friend—as she called it. Even when I witnessed the entire event, it was still _surreal._ Just what _couldn't_ these _Wikkōn_ do?

"Sit tight, I'll be back in two shakes."

"No. We can handle the rest. Stay with them. Please."

Maggie looks a bit taken aback, and I agree with her reaction. I don't understand why Alice still doesn't want her to help out with the fight. She says it's to _save the ace_ ; keep Maggie hidden from Lucifer until the last moment. I don't know what reality she's living in, but it seems pretty last moment **now**. I let out a dissatisfied sigh at her decision.

"All right. But I want you to take the necklace around my neck."

I watch as Alice unclasps the chain from the woman's throat and places it around her own. Her expression shows she's just as curious as I am. Maggie explains it's a way for Alice to communicate with her.

"Just call my name, and I'll hear you. Wherever it is, I'll come."

If Alice isn't too bullheaded to rely on you, that is.

Once Maggie reminds Ellen to hold on, she utters a series of foreign words. The puddle becomes dark like there's suddenly a giant hole in the floor. With another splash, they fall through. When I blink again, everything's back to normal. I've seen some pretty weird things in my days, but that, for some reason, still unnerves me. I just hope Jo gets better.

"How much time do we have left?"

I jerk out of my thoughts.

Sam glances at his watch. "About an hour and a half."

Shit. How long did it take to get to William's farm? Goddammit. Should've taken the car. But with the way Alice's freaky tree exploded outta the ground… I shudder. It's okay, my baby's fine. Moving on.

By foot, we should get there in about 45 minutes… if we run? Assuming if we don't meet any more obstacles along the way.

Alice looks to the door at the back corner of the store. "Take the stairs to the roof. When I move the willow, that's your cue to run. Be careful. I'll try to keep the hellhounds off you, but I don't know what else could be lurking out there."

"Are you sure about this? Going against those hellhounds alone?" Sam switches to me with a worried look, hoping I might convince Alice otherwise… which would be completely dumb. What can we possibly do against fifteen hellhounds? She'll probably have a harder time trying to keep the monsters off our asses than if she just had to watch her own back. Besides, I've got no intention to wind up a hellhound's chew toy again.

"We don't have time, remember? We came here with a job to do." Her sharp gaze then becomes sneering. "But hey, if you guys wanna turn tail and run, I can always call Maggie back."

 _Oh, hell no._

"Just keep those mutts out of our way, and we'll do our job." I snap. Sam still looks uneasy, but he doesn't say anything else.

The woman smirks, aggravating at times, but she sure knows how to get my blood pumping. She walks towards me and Sam with an outstretched hand. Does she want a handshake?

"Don't disappoint me _again_ , Dean."

Butt out of my sex life, woman.

Her eyes flit to Sam. "Same goes for you."

My brother grins and grips her hand. Instead of a handshake, they hold each other's palm like they're about to arm wrestle, the type of greeting Sammy and I sometimes share. The kid's really treating her like a member of the family. He lets go, and Alice turns to me. _Ah hell._ I grab her hand and grip it the same way. Alice _is_ family, just like how I imagined an annoying cousin.

"Get ready to eat your words, Alice. At midnight, Lucifer's dead."

…

Feral snarls rake my eardrums. Sam and I exchange looks as we wait by the exit. I glance out the glass opening on the door, hand locked on the knob. Behind us, the stairs descend to the floor below. Light from the store stretches weakly up the steps, and it barely grants visibility. Outside, Alice's willow bars the door, and all I see is black from the window.

I swallow, waiting. The moment the tree's gone, we'll make a break for it.

 _…_ _C'mon, Alice…_

I don't know which is making me more anxious, waiting for Alice, or knowing she's gonna fight _alone._

The snarls suddenly cut off. Sam and I tense.

A rumble shakes the floor, and a chorus of thundering growls erupt outside. I catch movements slither across the glass, and I immediately twist the knob and push. The door relents, swinging out and slamming on the back of the concrete walls. Sam and I burst from the small landing and leap onto the roof. My eyes widen for a second.

Giant twists of branches and roots the size of steel girders oscillate against the moonlight, looking like monstrous serpents. I tear my eyes away and focus on running. We race towards the back of the building where we find the fire escape. As the sound of boots striking metal rungs drum in my ears, I can hear thrashing and barking overhead, punctured by the occasional reverberation of the entire building. _Christ._ Alice's gonna take apart this entire street.

Our feet hit the ground and we launch in the direction of the farm. I don't even bother looking back. _She's got this_ , I tell myself.

I remember the time she yelled at Raphael, how angry and _fearsome_ she looked, then to the time she burned the _Sluagh_ to smoke. Alice has proven herself time and time again how capable she is. This shouldn't be any different.

A scream rips out from behind us. It stops us cold.

Sam jerks towards the way we came. "It's Alice!"

I whirl around, the sound of her voice still echoing in my ears. Was it a cry for help?

"We need to go back!"

A flash of light explodes from behind the buildings, shrouded even more by the cover of trees. _Go back?_ _Help her?_ I plant my feet into the ground. A part of me longs to run back, but my gut anchors me down. _Was_ that a cry for help? It sounded more guttural, ferocious even… like a battle cry.

"No." I turn back towards our goal.

"Dean!"

I shoot my brother a glare. "She said she'll take care of it! Trust her."

Sam dithers, and after another beat, he nods his head.

We pick up our pace again, traversing further into the woods. After about thirty minutes of solid running on the uneven forest ground, I'm beginning to wonder if we've gotten lost. But I let out a sigh of relief when I glimpse the clearing a few meters away. Tens of people… no, more than that… fifty… a hundred, stand silent and unmoving beyond the thickets. Eerie, just like how those _Sluagh_ victim's stood.

"Guess we know what happened to some of the townspeople," I say. A particular figure catches my attention. I narrow my eyes. Standing atop an incline, it's the only figure moving.

"Lucifer," Sam hisses.

Huh. I kind of expected something different… Maybe some horns? He just looked so _human…_ and is he digging? With a shovel?

"Last words?"

I glance at Sam. His expression is somber. _Yeesh, have a little more faith, will ya_ … is what I want to say. Instead, "I think I'm good." This isn't the first time we had to confront death, I think I've used up all my last words.

"…Yeah. Me, too."

We look at each other again and nod. Turning, we walk in separate directions.

~Castiel's P.O.V.~

Heat blazes across my vision, and my face jerks away. Blinking, I find myself faced with the spewing flames of holy fire. I glance around my surroundings. How did this happen? I'm trapped. My teeth clamp down.

 _Alice._

I rack my brain and am immediately greeted by the warm glow that shines near the edges of my consciousness. I can feel her light, and it burns vibrantly to the east of me. The tightness in my stomach unfurls a fraction.

But I've failed my promise to Dean.

I curse my own incompetence. I had told Ellen and Joanna I needed to find the reason for the reapers' appearance. I'd only intended to stay away for a moment… I need to find a way out of here.

I glance about the room, searching the damp and crumbling interior. A basement of some sort? Wooden panels, concrete walls, and pipes fill my vision. A flicker moves in my peripherals, and my eyes flash to the source. I bristle.

"Lucifer."

His light beams beneath human skin, colder and more hollow than any I've ever felt. There's anger there, quiet, but festering, like a volcano just before the rupture. I find myself inwardly recoiling from it.

The vessel he took appears ordinary; a man in his late thirties of average build and height. Lucifer shifts and finally steps out from the shadows. He skims me with his eyes.

"So, I take it you're here with the Winchesters."

My brows twitch. Does he not _know_? A fledgling hope rises within me. "I came alone."

His eyes narrow. "Loyalty. Such a nice quality to see in this day and age." He paces the floor outside the fire and angles his head. "Castiel, right?"

I nod warily.

His face pinches with rumination. "I'm told you came here in an automobile."

The hope fizzles. He knows. Of course, he knows. But I don't appreciate how he's toying with me. "Yes," I growl out.

"What was that like?" he asks, unfazed by my hostility.

What's the point in these questions? He's trapped me here for a reason. Why stall? My eyes continue to search the room for opportunity. Humor him then.

"Slow..." If he wants to waste time, then let him. "Confining."

He takes another step forward, only a foot away from the fire and studies me with what I read as amused curiosity. "What a peculiar thing you are."

My jaw tightens at the derisive comment, and I suddenly feel like laughing despite myself. I must look pitiful in his eyes. A lone angel with a spluttering candle of grace. How could I possibly measure as a contender? My insides curl with indignation, and I glare at him. And that's when I _see_ him.

The body's complexion is pale, skin stretched fine and waxy over bone and blemished by various sores and rips. He's rotting.

"What's wrong with your vessel?"

"Yes. Nick is wearing a bit thin, I'm afraid." He shrugs. "He can't take me forever, so...

My eyes flash. "You— " I hiss, jerking towards him. The heat from the fire burns me, and I'm stopped. I catch a brief flash of surprise on his face. "You are not taking Sam Winchester, I won't let you."

Lucifer is silent as he continues to stare at me. His surprise has turned into something else… fascination? The gleam in his eyes is manic. The emotion flickers and a calm distance returns to his face. "Castiel, I don't understand why you're fighting me, of all the angels."

I remember how Dean would roll his eyes. "You really have to ask?"

He saunters in front of me. "I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of heaven wants to see me dead and if they succeed, guess what?" A sly smile crosses his lips. "You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so... Why not just serve your own best interests? Which, in this case, just happened to be mine."

Never. "I'll die first."

His eyes become cold. "I suppose you will." He turns his back to leave. Yet, when he reaches the exit, he suddenly whirls around. There's a strange smile on his lips. I don't know why, but my body pricks with alarm. "Just… not right now." His smile widens at my expression. "I can see you're confused, so let me explain myself." He strides back to me, pausing as his eyes stare into the far beyond as if to reminisce, as if to find where to start.

"You see, when I first began this war against humanity, there was one species that was a constant thorn in my side. Humans… are feeble-minded, gullible creatures. Offer them a few incentives and they start killing themselves." He laughs, shaking his head, but the humor quickly fades. "Except, every time, just before things could get _interesting,_ those _creatures_ had to show up. The _Wikkōn…_ " his lips curl around the word with loathing, "stopped the wars, settled their disputes, always… and without fail." He spins to address me as if I were an avid audience of his rant. "Can you imagine how frustrating it was to have all your hard work erased over and over again?"

I regard him with disgust.

He pays me no mind and continues. "But humans will be humans, and I knew. All I had to do was wait—What was a few hundred years? And soon, they forgot all about the majesty of the _Wikkōn_ , and then, I swooped in and graciously _reminded_ them."

"You lied and manipulated the humans," I snarl.

"Manipulated, yes. But I _never_ lie." Lucifer's eyes flash. His voice reverberates with dark wrath. "It was the truth, the _Wikkōn_ did live in splendor, and if they _wanted,_ they could easily destroy humanity…" His shoulders begin to shake. "And I was right." He laughs out. "It was so perfect! The _Wikkōn_ betrayed by the very humans they worked so hard to protect. Oh, you should've seen it, Castiel. For beings who claimed to be so peaceful, they sure had an amazing talent for violence and destruction. The way they _slaughtered_ those humans, it was almost an art-form."

I shudder from the reverie in his eyes, the deranged curl of his mouth. He's insane.

"But… good things never last, do they? …Lyss and her three compatriots… _guardians_ they call themselves. Rather arrogant if you ask me." His gaze rises to me again, and a mock apology slips from his mouth. "Oh, _sorry_. Her name is _Alice_ now, isn't it?"

I freeze.

"It's cute. And give her my congratulations when you see her for me. She's regained all her lost memories. It was only a matter of time before Lilith's spell broke, I knew." Lucifer slides a finger along his jaw. "She was living in a small apartment before she met you, am I right? In Bay City, Michigan? Address 34 Elm Street, unit C?" He shrugs offhandedly. "It's quite quaint. Small, but comfortable."

Something akin to bile rises in my throat. The idea of him standing in Alice's apartment, invading _her_ space… _our_ space, fills me with violent revulsion.

His carefree mask falls away and his eyes bore into mine with the full force of his mania. "I can smell her on you, Castiel."

My insides turn cold, horror piercing through my veins.

"I've searched and searched for a way to break her, to break a _guardian_. But I never could find that one thing I needed to push her over the edge. All the others, they all had someone that they couldn't part with, someone they needed beyond life… not her, though. She was always so… frustratingly _composed._ …Not anymore it seems." He chuckles and shrugs. "I could be wrong, of course. Maybe she only has a passing interest in you. We'll see. When she sees you dead at my hands, I wonder how she'll react."

My mouth is agape. _What have I done?_

"But hey! If she doesn't love you, then she'll be fine. But if she does… then we'll get to see some real entertainment, it's a win-win situation." Lucifer grins, baring his teeth. "I can't tell you how excited I am… to see her soul drenched with madness and agony, writhing as she destroys all that she holds dear…"

"I'll _kill_ you!" I rasp out. My arms launch towards him, but the holy fire slashes through me and hurls me back. "I'll kill you!" _What have I done? What have I done?_

"Don't worry, Cass. I won't actually kill you. Not yet anyways. But if she does love you, I'll have you see her wondrous transformation to the end." He turns and walks away.

My body shakes, crippling under the violent emotions. _No! You can't do this!_ "LUCIFER!"

I'm enraged, I'm _terrified._

"LUCIFER! **"** _Let me out! LET ME OUT!_

 _Alice._

I scream, "LET ME OUT!"


	22. To Welcome Madness

These creatures are _relentless._

You stare wide-eyed and panting before five hellhounds the size of rhinoceroses. The black tendrils of enraged energy whip and ripple across their form, growing like fur standing on end when they crouch. The dark beasts growl, bearing their teeth at you. Large viscous drops of saliva drip from their snout, so saturated with venom they burn holes into the asphalt upon contact. Each snarl fills the air with bloodlust.

You had told the Winchesters you would keep the hellhounds off them and you have. The moment you raced into the open; the moment you lured the attentions of the beasts away, you shifted the giant willow out of its protective coil. The massive branches and roots spread wide down the streets, in the air and deep underground, shooting past you and the hellhounds until they formed a caged dome. You had trapped yourself, trapped the hellhounds, in this enclosure that answered only to your will. You thought you had _won._

With a single thrust of your arm, you had impaled half of the hellhounds upon the deadly edges of the roots. The rest were only lucky enough to dodge when they could. It seemed _so easy._ You should've realized the moment such a thought passed your mind that something was off. But you only stood there, watched in part fascination and part horror as the remaining hellhounds started to _eat_ the fallen members of their pack. They devoured their brethren, taking into them the voracity and madness and doubled their sizes.

You did your best to attack, lashing at them, piercing, and tearing. Always, the ones escaped would swallow the ones that failed…

And now, here you stand, facing the five hellhounds that've overcome your attacks, quadrupling their powers so that even the strongest of your roots and branches can't penetrate their hide.

The biggest hellhound roars its battle cry and the rest echo it. The boom is so loud you have to lock your hands over your ears to shield them. Your heart pounds and when you bring your hands down again, you realize you're shaking. It takes a moment for you to register that you're _afraid._ Dwarfed by these malicious beings both in size and power, you come to know _terror._ You breathe in shaky gasps. When was the last time you experienced such fear for yourself? You can't even remember.

You start to laugh despite yourself.

A furious bark rips from the closest hellhound and it jolts you back into reality. Your right foot starts to slide back. The beasts tense. Faster than the eye can see, you leap rearward just as the hellhounds spring for you. You send a curtain of vines to impede their pursuit. Their monstrous incisors tear apart the green trails almost instantly. You continue to run, bounding back and forth within the cage just narrowly missing each swipe and snap. It's all you can do to momentarily slow them down and you know you can't keep this up forever. If you escape the cage, the hellhounds will be free. They have Sam and Dean's scent; they'll go after them! You have to keep the beasts in here as long as you can…

A hellhound leaps into your vision. _Shit!_ Nothing had been moving within your trajectory a moment ago. You try to change directions mid-jump, but a searing pain shoots through your shoulder. A vice grips you and wrenches you down. You realize as you fall that these beasts had read your maneuvers and begun to anticipate your movements. _How cunning._

You hit the ground with a cry. The vice over your shoulder tightens. You turn your head, seeing your own blood splash across your cheek. A crazed eye stares back at you, reflecting your image in warped gleams. You're being gnawed upon by a hellhound, and its teeth seethe into you with each added breath.

A sizzle enters your right ear and you scream.

A giant dollop of hellhound venom burns into the gash, slicing into your nerves with blistering agony. Just when you think the pain can't get any worse, the same ripping and pressure inflict both your legs, arm, and side. Every hellhound has a piece of you in their mouths and they're going to tear you apart!

You're going to _die!_ You're going to _end!_ Alice will be no more!

 _No! No!_ You don't want to be reborn again! You don't want to lose your memories again! You still need to find Castiel! You still need to protect Sam and Dean.

"NO!" You cry out a guttural refusal.

The hellhounds start to yank. You feel your insides tearing.

"NO!"

… _Let me in._

A voice slithers into your mind.

 _Let me save you…_

You feel the familiar and yet eerie presence again. Its dark tenor ripples into your consciousness with the promise of freedom. The voice chimes in your mind, singing maddening trills and savage notes.

Revulsion courses through you, and you drive the voice back to whence it came. You won't resort to _that._ You won't be tempted! Anger crashes forth, obliterating the pain and flooding your veins with adrenaline. The hellhound venom may be seeping into your body, but they have your blood leaking into their mouths just as well. As they continue to pull, you force your anatomy to keep its structure; to keep its strength. You won't be undone! You won't be ended by a couple of crazed _mutts!_

You plunge into the depths of your soul, reaching for the sun within. You won't hold anything back anymore. The sun billows at your call, eager for the awakening. Light and power ricochet into your veins. Your chest is a furnace and you can see the radiance beaming under your skin, shining through your vessels like a growing stream.

"You want more?" You rasp out, "You can HAVE IT!"

" _EXIRȂLHȐEM!"_

You burst.

…

When you come to, you're lying on the crumpled asphalt. The sky is black but so clear. You can see the stars winking down at you. You take a breath and cough.

You hurt. A sore, numbing pain pulses through your body, shooting a burning slice into your nerves with every heartbeat. The hellhound venom still poisons you.

You try to move your body, groaning as the limbs reluctantly respond. Slowly sitting up, your brain sloshes before you can regain your bearings. You survey your surroundings. The buildings around you are in shambles, and your willow has disappeared. You're not exactly surprised. To use your last spell, it had taken nearly all you had, on top of drinking back all the energy you delivered to the plant.

Hellhounds are fell beasts, and though they take an animal's form, they are not, in fact, the fallen souls of animals, for animals do not _sin._ Animals live under instinct, propelled only by the notion of survival. They don't harbor sentiments of greed or lust in the way humans do. If they love, they love with their whole being. If they hate, it is the same. But even under their wrath, they do not plot for the demise of another simply to add to their gain. So very different from humans indeed.

The conception of hellhounds is a much sadder, crueler tale. Human souls torn into insanity, minds that can't comprehend the pain afflicted upon them. Many a times, these souls were too young to even notice a world beyond their own torture. They lose their sense of being, too tainted for any kind of ascension and too agonized to recognize their own darkness. Reapers can't reach them and death cannot erase their suffering. So they're left to the demons, collecting these pitiful, crazed souls and merging them with the madness of others, changing their forms until they become beasts of aberration. They rip and lash at anything they're given if only to numb the anguish inside themselves for a moment. And then they're suppressed when their task is finished, conquered by their owners through the affliction of more pain, leashed and caged until they may be free to spread their agony again.

It is not _impossible_ to bring the collective consciousness back from a hellhound's madness, but it is a feat that requires decades of patience and consolation. Many of your kind have accomplished such a task, _however_ , it's an endeavor not only dangerous but painful to the _Wikkōn_ mind. And you had neither the time or the strength to comfort one hellhound, let alone five. Under the threat of your own demise, you did the only merciful thing you could. You burned them away, souls and all. It would take a millennium for their spirits to re-forge, to come together bit and bit until they can re-enter the realm of living again, maybe longer… But waiting for eons without consciousness or feeling would still be better than another hour as a blood-crazed beast. You bring a hand to your lips and reach out towards the sky, praying that their next incarnation would be a happy one.

Sighing, you try to stand on buckling legs. You wonder what time it is. With aching arms, you pat your jacket for your cellphone, only to find the pocket you kept it in and much of the fabric ripped away. Of course. You doubt it would've survived the battle even if it is still there. You raise your eyes skyward again. Perhaps Sam and Dean haven't reached Lucifer yet. If they had won or if something amiss had occurred, you'd sense it wouldn't you? And you still need to find Castiel.

You still.

Staring blankly into the space before you, you scour your mind. Where is it? Where is his light? Why can't you feel it anymore?

You grip your arm to calm yourself.

He's not gone. Castiel isn't gone. You'd _feel_ it. Your senses seem bludgeoned and restrained even without the hindrance from the fog. It must be the hellhound venom still in your system… It _has_ to be!

You squeeze your eyes shut, refusing to dwell on the alternative. Hissing through your teeth, you jerk your focus towards the direction of the Winchesters. If you can't find Castiel directly, you'll find the next best thing and then beat it out of _him._

You raise your leg and take a heavy step forward. The limb quakes under the strain. You force your body to move, pushing your other leg in front and repeat, over and over again. Each footfall gets lighter and faster as you proceed until you transition into a full blown sprint. You don't care if your muscles scream against the strain, and you don't care that you barely have any power left in your reserves to challenge Lucifer. All but willpower fuels you now and you demand that it'd be enough.

You fly past the ruined buildings to the forest, racing upon the untrodden ground towards the farm. Every branch and thistle that brushes you spark with excitement, kissing your skin and sending a trickle of vibrant, generative power into your body. When you find a clearing, the soreness in your muscles have all but disappeared. It's by no means adequate against Lucifer, but you're grateful nonetheless.

You try to spread your senses, and once again all you receive is blurred silence. You can't rely on your _Wikkōn_ perception anymore. You look about for signs of either Winchester but see no evidence of their presence. You do, however, see the legion of demon-possessed bodies standing at attention. Narrowing your gaze, you press forward with vigilance.

Your brain sloshes again and you shake your head. It felt as though you just passed through something, and you vaguely recall hearing a sound similar to your name. You glance around again with furrowed brows. The forest meters behind you hasn't changed and the bodies that still stand meters before you remain immobile. You soon discard the quizzical expression from your face and continue your advance. When the bodies begin to part, you bristle. Their original positions would in no way have impeded your path, but for some reason, they still retreat, leaving a wide berth for your passage as if you're a grand guest to a sinister gathering.

You take a few careful scans of the various demonic faces before you proceed. Something is very wrong here. Dread and anticipation curl in your stomach, and each step closer to what you don't know brings an onslaught of cold sweat peppering your form.

Yards away, atop of a grassy incline, you catch sight of a different figure. Unlike the others, he doesn't stand with rigid placidity nor does his face distort with a demon's malevolence. Angular and chiseled, the man's visage would have beheld a humble beauty of an average man. But the being that resides inside his skin is anything but _average._ His expression is patiently amused, though his eyes shine with a certain ardor. You note the color of his irises: _blue_. But unlike Castiel, whose gaze is an ocean of warmth, _his_ is an ice cold void. You can feel the striated glaciation that is his energy, the very make up of his existence, and for a fraction of a second, you're once again overcome with pity.

The sound of clapping shakes you from your stupor and you glare up at him. Lucifer is giving you an _applause._ You don't know what elicited this action, and the only hint of your confusion is betrayed by the slight dip in your brows, otherwise, your face is a callous mask. A part of you decides the behavior is nothing more than an attempt at mockery.

"Welcome, Alice. It's so good to see you again after all this time. All things considered, you look _wonderful._ "

You reign in a scowl. Your body is covered with gashes and bruises, and though half of those injuries should've been well on its way to healing, the venom inside is preventing the regeneration. Your clothes, what's left of it, are in tatters and still soaked with blood and debris. You're sure you must look like a war-refugee. "I'll have your hellhounds to thank for that."

He smirks. "Hence my applause."

You narrow your eyes. Where _are_ they? You search your peripherals without taking your eyes off him. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of _seeing_ your unease. All you can observe are the demons surrounding you, no hint of Dean or Sam.

A knowing glint sparks in his eyes. "Where are the rest of your friends, Alice?"

You hate the way he speaks your name.

"It's quite appalling that they would leave you to fend for yourself like this."

Your jaw sets, but you thrust your chin upwards, upholding the impervious demeanor. "How long do you plan on keeping this charade? You and I both know who the culprit behind their _absences_ is _._ "

Lucifer holds a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "You wound me. You make it sound like I _made_ them abandon you. If you recall correctly, they all left you of their own free will. And they left you to try an attempt on _my_ life. I narrowly escaped death with my head on my shoulders!"

You visibly tense. Dean and Sam _were_ here! And by the looks of things, they didn't succeed. Where are they now? Did they escape?

"You look quite animated for someone who just _narrowly_ escaped death."

"No thanks to your human friends, but I'm quite _resilient._ " He kicks something small and metal forward, and the curious object tumbles down the incline and stops in front of you. You can't stop the color leeching from your face. The Colt lies uselessly at the base of the hill. It may as well be fertilizer at this point. All your hopes… squashed so conclusively. You swallow the bitter disappointment and bare your teeth.

"Where are they?"

His expression is calm, but undeniable excitement ignites in his eyes. Without another word, he gives a beckoning wave of his hand. You glance to your left and see two demons approach, each holding a limp body in their grasp. The legs, swathed in grimy jeans, drag listlessly through the dirt. Your heart stutters. Even if the shadows still cloud their forms, even if you can't see their faces, their build, their _clothes…_ are all instantly recognizable. The demons drop the bodies when you have more than a clear view.

Dean and Sam's bodies lay crumpled on the ground like wooden puppets with severed strings. You don't sense even a shred of energy. Their clothes are ruffled but otherwise untouched, exactly as you last saw them.

You drop to their side, turning the body closest to you so you can see his face. Dean's visage is wiped of any emotion. All that's left is the blankness in his eyes and the bullet size hole in the center of his forehead. You look numbly over to his brother; it's the same... Dead. Empty. Finite.

Your breath catches in your throat.

How can this be? How can this be? This shouldn't have happened. This _shouldn't_ have happened! Your mind staggers to comprehend the reality before you.

"Oh right." Lucifer's voice draws your attention as though he had forcibly turned your head. He's grinning now, looking down his nose at you. He's _enjoying_ this.

"I saved the best for last."

There's a shadowed lump at his feet, but its form is so, _so_ alarmingly familiar. As his foot thrusts into the lump, you find your body propelling forward. You spread your arms to catch the falling figure, stumbling and rolling when the body crashes into you. The familiar weight of his frame hurtles you into the ground, knocking the wind out of you. You force yourself upright, gripping the lapels of his coat as he lays across your legs. Your whole body trembles as you stare at his face.

"Cass…"

His expression is serene. Brows gently curve above closed eyelids. His long lashes, you've spent many a times marveling, line the edges of his eyes. He looks like he's asleep.

Your vision jars, and the tenebrous voice brushes against your mind again.

 _…_ _but he's not._

Your heart locks, and though your chest heaves, you can't breathe. But even under the protest of your physical body, your mind is in complete disarray.

There is no pain on his face. No suffering. No Agony. He looks like he's just asleep!

… _but he's not…_ The voice repeats.

You grip his face, and you can't bring your eyes to look above his brow. For the crimson hole upon his forehead will tear apart your sanity.

This _can't_ be happening.

Your vision swims, flashing back and forth from the hell locked in your memories to the hell you see now.

This can't be happening!

 _…_ _but it is…_

You escaped that world to _stop_ this from happening!

 _...but you can't escape this…_

You throw your arms around him and bury your face into his neck.

No. _No._ _NO!_

It's a trick. This isn't real. Lucifer's _tricking_ you!

You straighten and shoot the devil a scathing glare. You don't care if your eyes are wild and desperate, you don't care that your face is stained with tears. "This isn't real! None of this is! Dispel this illusion right now!" Your voice is a harrowing screech.

Lucifer watches you with impassive disdain. Sometime during the display, his grotesque interest seems to have morphed into mild disgust. He doesn't say anything to answer your cry.

"Dispel it! Dispel this right now!" You scream again. "Dispel it! DISPEL IT! Disp…" Your voice croaks and subsequently disappears. Your head falls forward and you're no longer able to hold back your sobbing. "No…" You moan out. "No…!" You can't _lose…_ Not like this. Not like _this…_

In a flood of pure agony, you clutch your angel to your heart and wail towards the heavens. The scream suffuses with every ounce of grief and misery, lynched from your bones to pour through your mouth.

You don't want to _lose…_

Darkness billows around you, seeping in from the corners of your consciousness.

 _…_ _Let me in…_

… _Let me save you…_

Its inky tendrils wrap gently around you, caressing you, coaxing you with a lover's touch.

You're too weak to refuse anymore. You're too broken to care anymore. _Wikkōn… guardian…_ What did any of it matter…

 _...Let me in… Let me assuage you… comfort you…_

There is no comfort… not anymore… He's gone…

 _…_ _Gone…_

Castiel…

 _...Then let me_ **avenge** _you…_

The voice wrenches forth a tidal wave of emotion, all entrenched with the yearning for wrath, for savagery, for _madness._ The lull of its whispers is suddenly violently pleasing, and you dash towards the raven song in rampant desperation. The moment you open yourself to receive it, the darkness seizes you.

All sight disappears as though your eyes are covered with black satin. You feel yourself being dragged deep, lower and lower until you can barely feel reality anymore… until you can barely feel _anything_ anymore.

It's numb. Everywhere and everything is numb. It's so soothing to be here in this darkness, in this void. You feel like you can let go of everything… forget everything…

 _…_ _Yes…_

 _…_ _Forget…_

 _…_ _Let go…_

And you do. 

* * *

**This chapter was originally supposed to be longer, but tacking on the remainder seemed to lessen the impact.**

 **In any case, I'm trying to write as much as I can now since I'll be moving to South Korea in November! ...granted all goes well with my visa and corporate training! Once I start working, I may not have as much time to write! Really hope that isn't the case!**

 **xoxo!**

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! Reviewers get to hug a broken Castiel? ...hmm... not very enticing? How about promises of more of our favorite angel in the next chap?**


	23. To Come Undone

**Please Read and Review!**

* * *

"Alice! Alice!"

Two men, brothers, in fact, pound heavily against the invisible barrier that repels them. After their failed attempt to execute a certain archangel using a powerful but human weapon, they were quickly cast aside. Now, they're forced to stand watch as a lone woman struts into a field of enemies. Despite their desperate and rancorous shouts, she makes no indication of hearing them.

"Dammit, Alice! We're right here! Why can't she see us?!"

Sam stops his assault on the barrier in frustrated defeat and presses his palms against the impenetrable wall. "It's this force field he's put up. It's blocking her."

Dean still persists. He rages another blow from his fists, adding a kick from his foot every now and then. "How… are we… supposed… to help her… if we can't… get to her… Gah!" He finishes his sentence with a full body slam, but all that results from his effort is a sudden blowback equal to his exerted force, hurling the man backward into the thistles of a bush.

Sam hurries to help his brother up. He knows Dean's fine, but habit forces him to fuss. "You okay?"

Dean growls and yanks himself out of the bushes. When he lets go of Sam's hand, he sets it on the taller man's shoulder. "Yeah. Not too happy about having my ass kicked by a force field though."

Sam sees the demons part for Alice before his eyes flicker to the figure watching her approach from the incline. He doesn't know why Lucifer is barricading them or even hiding them from her. Just what does he want with Alice?

Dean stands in front of the barrier again, holding a hand to the invisible wall and pressing himself closer. Seeing his brother's action, Sam decides to do the same. Like a two-way mirror in an interrogation room, the men are able to view and hear everything inside the field. If only they weren't forced to play the role of unwilling witnesses.

~Lucifer's P.O.V.~

I let my hands fall to my sides when the final guest arrives at last. "Welcome, Alice. It's so good to see you again after all this time. All things considered, you look _wonderful._ "

It took a while for her to get here, and given the state she's in, I'd say my expectations were met quite diligently. Centuries have passed since I last saw her in the flesh and approximating what it would take to weaken but not completely incapacitate her had been a gamble…

When I first set the demons on Carthage, I knew it would attract the little trio to me. The Winchesters I need, but the _Wikkōn?_ She was just going to be icing on the cake. Without the angels helping her and the aid of the other _guardians_ , detaining Lyss would nearly be a _joke._ The oath that binds her soul may prevent me from killing her, but I have plenty other ideas on what I could do with her _detainment._ Yet, lo and behold, one little addition changed my plans entirely.

Life, fate, whatever you call it, _truly_ works in mysterious ways.

The Winchesters had brought an angel to their midst, and what a curious discovery that was.

A fallen, treasonous angel as it were, siding with the humans. I had to see for myself.

How and why this rebel is still alive, I don't know, but I was almost disappointed when I finally saw him. With his powers nearly depleted, I could barely call him an angel. If I wasn't feeling so merciful, I might've disintegrated the thing right then and there. Pitiful, really, and strangely sentimental for an angel. To see his panties all bunched up at the slightest reference to the Winchesters… Still, anything that proves to be a thorn in Heaven's side is a gain for me. And then I got close enough to take a whiff of him...

I almost couldn't believe it. The _Wikkōn's_ scent was _all over_ him.

 _My_ , he has been naughty. Of all the things to grab Lyss's interest, what makes this one so special? I really wanted to know.

From the way he waltzed into my trap, I doubt he's very smart. And since this is my first time even hearing of him means he clearly hasn't done anything until recently to warrant any recognition. Why this thing? He's utterly _pathetic_ , not to mention stubborn. Could it really be the… sentimentality? Plausible at best, but if, **if** my intuition is correct, then I've just found myself something a whole lot better than _cake icing_. I seized the opportunity.

The _Wikkōn_ squares her shoulders. "I'll have your hellhounds to thank for that."

I study her form, and I have to remind myself again that Lyss is now _Alice,_ in a new body… a new life but with all the memories and abilities intact.

The Lyss from _my_ memories was taller, more graceful, with rolling silver hair and golden eyes that pierced your very existence. The woman before me, however, isn't nearly as pleasing to the eye. Average height, but of a similar build, black hair and even duller eyes. Why choose such a mundane body? Although, the aftermath of occupying my hellhounds may be what's preventing me from making an accurate assessment of the wares.

She lifts her chin, mouth pulled tight. The moonlight splashes across her face, igniting her gaze with defiance. There it is, the Lyss from my past. I'm pleased to see she hasn't disappointed me. Lyss— _Alice…_ brushes my praise aside, and though her eyes are trained on me, there's a whisper of strain on her face. I smirk. She won't get to see her beloved friends just yet. In my peripherals, the Winchesters are still trying to catch the woman's attention. Waste of effort.

"How long do you plan on keeping this charade? You and I both know who's responsible for their _absence._ "

I take a step back, wearing an affronted face. "You wound me." Of course, I'm behind it. Am I to just stand around and wait for your silly friends to try and kill me? If you love your toys so much, don't bring them to _my_ playground. My words shake the thin veil of confidence right off her, but she doesn't give in just yet. She forces her shoulders back down, eyes narrowing into scathing slits. Her words, however, become short and clipped.

"You look quite animated for someone who just _narrowly_ escaped death."

I almost laugh. She's still pretending she's on equal footing. Is she daft? I don't know if I should feel outraged by her arrogance or pity her futile struggle for composure. If anything, she reminds me of a cornered rodent trying to stare down a falcon. My eyes flicker to the metal weapon laying at my feet. What expression will she make next? What will she say? I want to see.

"No thanks to your human friends, but I'm quite… _resilient._ " I kick the gun down to her. I watch as her eyes follow its movements, her face paling when she realizes what it is. She immediately bares her teeth at me, all her reserve forgotten.

"Where are they?"

I hear the slight tremor in her voice, though she hides it well. This is _fun._ I wonder how much it would take to crack that control. I almost can't bear the excitement. With a wave of my hand, I order the two demons to bring the bodies. When they drop the cadavers in front of her, the woman is motionless, and her face… expressionless. I wait. Her attention is still frozen on the lifeless lumps on the ground. I catch the quiver of her mouth. She drops to their side and rolls the nearest body so she could see the face.

I hold back a snort. She thinks it's the Winchesters lying there. I half expected her to see through the trick. Banal illusions like these only serve to circumvent the weak-minded. Guess I gave her too much credit.

"What the fuck?! Is that us?!"

"Alice! It's a trick! Don't fall for it!"

Yell all you want; she still can't hear you. And besides, the party's just getting started. I materialize a replica of the angel I captured, adding one additional detail for my enjoyment. When I draw her attention with a final address, I set the sole of my shoe upon his side and push.

It's almost comical to see how fast she moved. Running forward to catch the illusion with such alarm. She falls for it… literally, scrambling to right herself and the illusion. Her whole body shakes as she cradles him, her expression crumbling.

"Cass…"

The whisper is a cacophony of shock and pain.

My mouth splits into a beaming grin. I was **right.** I've found it; the chink in her armor.

She presses her hands to its face, hunched over and gasping. Small anguished moans escape her.

And then I feel it... The vibration in her energy and the discord it causes around her. Trembling, quivering, with an effect so odd, it bisects the wind and air. As a gust tries to brush past, it's forced into a stall, creating momentary pockets of warped space. Dark flecks begin to shadow her aura, flashing and growing with each pained sob. What used to be a shimmering radiance of emerald and gold has now been invaded by deep singeing reds and charcoal. Following the rhythmic pulse of her changing aura, the vegetation at her feet shrivels, blackens, and decays. In the backdrop, the forest shivers. As her aura grows, the miasma thickens, causing the trees and plants to cringe back, as if consciously repelled by her grief.

It's starting!

But then everything stills. The air. The trees. The very molecules in the atmosphere seem to immobilize, quietly waiting for the final moment, like a ball teetering on the edge of a chasm. Will it fall? Or will it roll back to safety?

The _Wikkōn_ lifts her head, cheeks stained red with tears and her mouth wrenched into a twisting snarl. Her eyes, no longer dull brown, blaze with gold. They scorch with her rage, shooting towards me like an arrow.

"This isn't real! None of this is! Dispel this illusion right now!" Her voice is a frantic screech, and I find it shrill and aggravating.

I watch her with half-lidded interest, feeling severely disappointed. Is this really all it took? I've seen more resistance in the others of her kind, and some of their loved ones were mangled beyond recognition. This is the _Wikkōn_ who bested me all those centuries ago? This pathetic, mewling husk?

"Dispel it! Dispel this right now! Dispel it! DISPEL IT! Disp…" she finally breaks off, unable to scream anymore. Crumbling, she falls back to her sobbing.

My mouth pulls back in disgust. Anger roils in my stomach. I've had so long to plan; to imagine all the ways I was going to _take her apart._ I wanted to tear her down piece by piece, have her clinging onto the last shreds of her dignity until there was absolutely nothing left. I was going to make her grovel, beg, plead. To prostrate before me all the while carrying the burning hatred in her eyes. I was going to _make her know_ , sear the truth into her soul, that I had won and in the end, she could _never_ prevail against me…

All those things I wanted, replayed over and over in my mind like a fantasy...

And now they've all rotted away.

Where was the challenge? Seeing this sniveling, sobbing heap of a creature has extinguished all my respect and along with it my expectations. Lyss… _Alice_ … you're no better than a human now.

The sobbing starts to quiet and the trembling in her body fades.

So… since you're no better than a human, what right do you have to call yourself a _guardian_?

The woman's face is still shadowed, cast downward and shoulders hunched. She clutches the illusion to her chest.

Time seems to halt. Sparks of energy crack around her, atoms crashing and splitting from one another. Small bursts of sound and light erupt within a certain radius surrounding her, pushing the resonance across the clearing like claps of thunder.

I take a step forward as the demons near her huddle back.

"What's going on?"

"Alice! Goddammit! Wake up! It isn't real!"

Alice snaps her head back and wails. The sound cracks the senses. Acute, booming. It carves fissures across the sky, and a blast of lightning ricochets back, striking the _Wikkōn_ and incinerating every molecule in its path. There is a silent beat and everything stops.

Pure, violent energy explodes from her body, blasting the malevolent aura in every direction. My barrier shatters from the influx, and my illusions are blown away. I bring a hand in front of my face to obstruct the kick back. When I finally attune myself to the onslaught of the pressure, I pull my hand back.

Black waves crest and slam outward. It has my demons all but flailing under her power. I begin my approach. Her energy continues to accost every being in its vicinity, slashing and surging to its limits. I breathe in the caliginous madness with a deep inhale, tasting the black craving for savagery and vengeance. Another torrent of energy swells and whips towards me, but this time, it brings with it a shadowy growth. I leap back just as a wild, serpentine appendage launches at me. Glancing back, I realize the growth is a conglomeration of plants, albeit, mutated with her tainted energy. The multitude of branches, vines, and roots are various colors of slate, rot, and ash, twisting and bending with gnarled, jagged edges. The sight reminds me of a distorted bush of thorns, spiraling outwards with the broken _Wikkōn_ at its helm.

My mouth splits into a grin. Such a potent, untapped resource.

I step atop the deformed branch closest to me and make my way towards her. The branch twists and writhes under my approach, but my own energy traps it under my weight. As if in reflex, every other vine, root, and plant growth shoots towards me, aiming deadly edges which I've no doubt could pierce steel. I continue my sauntering pace. The moment they come within an inch of my body, they freeze. These limbs may thrive on the _Wikkōn's_ dark energy, but the creature is operating in _my_ domain now. Darkness may very well be the element from which I am founded.

The mutated plant continues to resist my hold, struggling to push forward as I advance. With every step, the jagged edges move with me, hovering with laboring ferocity until I'm close enough to stare down the coiling branches. At its center, meters below, is Lyss in all her tainted glory, intertwined with the rope-like plants that drape down her arms and legs. Knurled twines curl affectionately against her skin, growing blacker the longer the contact. Her transformation hasn't simply touched her energy but her appearance as well. Her hair has retreated to its former silver hue, but instead of a glow, it now reflects a leeching glisten. Her skin, too, has darkened, blemished with a grisly stygian that seems to pulsate in uneven patches across her form. Her eyes glare wide and empty at me, doling out lambent, crimson gleams that shine beneath the lids.

I grin wider. _My._ She _is_ a sight of horror. I've witnessed the _Wikkōn's_ fall into depravity countless times, but it's still a fascinating vision to behold.

The more prudent part of me urges I work faster. Midnight is almost due, and _Death_ is not a being I want to keep waiting.

I descend towards Lyss and she shrieks at my approach. I land in front of her and she whips back, launching her claws at me. I catch her wrist in my hand. A sound of outrage rips from her throat and she hurls her other hand at me. I catch it again. She snarls out growls and roars that could only be described as _inhuman._ I laugh. If anything, with all that twisted rage, she resembles that of a hellhound more than anything else.

Lyss continues to fight against my hold, but it's no use. My energy has latched onto hers and it curls and seeps into her core with her every breath. She doesn't have nearly enough control over her madness to grasp the difference in our abilities. I tighten my hold on her arms and pain wrenches across her vengeful visage.

" _Submit_ , Lyss. You've lost."

More defiant growls, but they're weaker now.

" _Kneel,"_ I say.

Her legs buckle and she falls. Her arms lay outstretched as my grip on her wrists are the only thing keeping her upright. She groans, furious, with empty glares and gritted teeth. I lower myself to her eye level, pulling her arms down and pressing her palms to the dirt.

" _Kneel._ "

She gasps out and snaps her jaw at me like a rabid dog. With her energy bound under mine, her physical movements have been restricted as well. I snatch her face with one hand and crush her fingers under my foot.

" _Submi,._ " I order again.

Her look of rage breaks, and in its stead, a face withering in despair reveals itself. All at once, the steely walls of her protective plant come crashing down. Rot-induced and flaking into oblivion, the monstrous growth collapses into slate colored shreds, peppering the ground and drifting to the air like ash. I study her toiling appearance. The bruise like tones still swim across her skin, but her eyes no longer burn red. Strangely enough, the sclera of her eyes have turned black, much like a demon's, but the familiar gold ring of her irises have returned. Tears continue to trickle down her face, dripping across my fingers like hot acid. Her cheeks are sunken in, her lips torn and dry. Shallow, moaning breaths squeeze out from behind her teeth.

Interesting. So this is what happens to a _Wikkōn_ driven mad when you crush their anger. My energy spirals into hers, delving deeper into her mind, her _self_ , her _soul._ I can taste her grief, taste the heavy saturation of her helpless anguish. I lick my lips.

"I don't want to lose…" she whispers.

My mouth curls. "We're way past any wanting, sweet Lyss. You've already lost. The sooner you accept that reality, the easier it'll be for you." I wonder why I even bothered to say that. Having her deny it will only prolong the madness. I could keep her locked up, like an animal, like a _pet_ , siphoning her power whenever I want, watching her tear and destroy whenever I want. How far will she go? There's so much _potential_ here. I don't just have a tainted _Wikkōn_ under my control, but a _tainted guardian_. Through her, I could get my hands on the others as well. Imagine that, all four _guardians_ broken and tamed… under me. Just the thought sends a wave of pleasure through my veins.

"And now, we enjoy _paradise_..." I grip her chin tighter, bringing her face towards mine.

But I feel no contact.

The world suddenly flies to the left and I'm launched into the ground. Rage floods my senses. I push myself back up. I whip my head in the direction of the attack, feeling a throbbing sting in my jaw.

A beige coat cuts across my vision, gleaming through the dark like a fresh laceration. I narrow my eyes into slits, seeing red.

 _Castiel._

Without even looking at me, he reaches for Lyss. The moment his hands touch her, they disappear.

I stand immobile, glaring and seething into the space the _Wikkōn_ just held. I was so, _so_ close. It takes me another moment before I can push the murderous storm away. My chest still heaves but my mind is working past the anger now. It doesn't matter that he's stolen her away. The transformation has already taken over, and no _Wikkōn_ has ever, EVER, returned from it. It's only a matter of time before I find her again… before I find _all of them_.

I turn my head to the left, glancing across the clearing to find the spot by the trees empty. I snort. The moon is nearly at its peak, and I walk back up the incline.

~With Castiel~

"Cass! Finally! Where the hell were you?!" Dean shouts against the roar of the wind. He holds his arm up to shield from the lashing currents.

The angel turns his head towards the hailstorm of malevolent energy, trying to find the source of this storm. All he can perceive through narrowed eyes are indistinguishable shadowed forms. The aura flooding his surroundings is so drenched in anger and violence he's unable to make out who or what he's seeing.

"Where's Alice?" Castiel asks.

"What?!" Dean shouts again, squinting against the gale.

Castiel grabs onto the hunter and raises his voice to a boom. " **Where is Alice?** "

Dean jerks back at the volume, now not only having his vision assaulted by the wind but his eardrums ringing as well. Luckily Sam steps in to answer. With one arm around his face, he points towards the grisly hurricane. "She's in there! She's the one causing this! Lucifer did something to her!"

Castiel whips his head towards the storm once more. So, it isn't a mistake. He can feel Alice's presence somewhere within the storm, but the surrounding black energy nearly shrouds it into oblivion. _She's_ causing this? How? What did Lucifer do?

He curses himself. He was only able to free himself from his prison moments ago.

 _Before Lucifer left, he tasked the demoness, Meg, with the duty of guarding the angel. She had received the order with zeal. She wanted to gloat, to bask in the glory of their apparent victory. The hell-spawn droned on and on._

 _It had taken Castiel awhile to pull himself together, much too long. Then he felt the sudden flare of Alice's energy. The fear that struck, coupled with an arresting urgency, no longer crippled him. It swept away the doubts and hesitation. It transformed his will into a blade, ruthless and unyielding. He was immediately able to find her most vulnerable insecurities and exploited them. It was a maneuver he'd seen the Winchesters enact many times but never personally tried or thought himself capable of… until now. It came surprisingly easy. Within minutes, he had her charging at him and right into the fire…_

Another wave of miasma blows towards them, picking up rocks and twigs in its path. Without another thought, Castiel grabs onto the younger Winchester with his other arm and flies away. When they re-emerge, they're standing within the study of Bobby's house, right across the desk of the old hunter himself.

"Holy mother—"

A gasp.

"What the—"

Castiel turns to leave, but Dean grabs him.

"The necklace—" he starts before the angel can growl at him. "The necklace around Alice's neck. Use it to call Maggie and get her help."

Castiel stares at the brothers' alarmed and shaken expressions then vanishes.

When he returns to the clearing, the storm has since been silenced.

The scenery is completely different from what he saw before. The branches of surrounding trees are whipped and cracked. The entire forest has bowed back along the circumference of the empty field. Castiel scours the area for Alice through narrowed eyes. Strewn across the field are various demons, trying to right themselves from the storm that just passed. When his eyes finally find what they're searching for, rage flares in him. Far across the clearing is Alice, but her appearance is warped. If he isn't able to feel her light like he is, if he didn't come to know every fiber of her like he does, he might not have recognized her. His heart stutters. But what inflames his anger, his terror, and his utter revulsion is the way Lucifer handles her. Alice on her knees, her hands under his foot and his hand on her face.

Don't touch her. Don't you _dare_ touch her.

Fire singes through his veins and Castiel feels he may explode from the volcanic rage inside him. Lucifer says something but Castiel can't hear. All that permeates his hearing is the thunder drumming within.

Lucifer grins, gripping Alice's face closer.

Castiel's eyes flash. In a split second, he traverses the distance. Flickering beside Lucifer, arm raised, Castiel drives his fist into the devil's jaw, sending him hurtling. The assault barely makes a dent in his rage. He can't think, can't speak. The vortex of black emotion renders his rationale into incoherency. All he knows is that he must get his Alice away, get his Alice to safety, get _his_ Alice far from Lucifer.

Not even bothering to glance at the offending archangel, Castiel turns his back and gathers Alice in his arms. The moment his touch makes contact, he whisks her away.

Amid the flight, Castiel envelopes Alice with his energy, clutching her to his center, his heart. But the immortal remains stone-like in his embrace. Then, as if a switch is flipped, Alice flies into a violent spasm, fighting his hold on her with rabid desperation. Unable to keep his grip on her, they materialize in mid-air, tumbling into a grassy hill hundreds of miles away.

Castiel stands in a disoriented daze. He isn't sure where they are exactly. All he knows is that he had to get her as far out of Lucifer's reach as possible. Castiel throws his line of vision across the hill to Alice. His insides twist painfully when he sees her visage.

Alice's gaze is wide and shell-shocked, a black and empty stare into space. Her skin is the color of dark water polluted by carbon ink. The wispy dilution undulates across her flesh in thread like ripples. Her breathing is unsteady, stringing from her lips in ragged puffs. Unintelligible mutterings sound from her lips between every few breaths. Castiel lets out a stuttering gasp, the immortal's appearance has cracked apart the lock on his throat.

"…Alice."

Hearing her name seems to trigger the creature into a frenzy. Turning a black glower towards the angel, she lets out a baleful cry. The rumble swells from the ground beneath her feet, surging outwards. Strips of sharp whip-like shadows shoot up around her, solidifying into giant black blades. It takes Castiel another second before he realizes Alice had transformed the grass from the hill into this fortress.

His jaw sets. He knows Alice isn't in her right mind, but the thought of her trying to impede his approach, trying to fight him, digs a jagged blow within him. But he won't stop. He'll bring her back to her senses.

Without another thought, he launches himself towards the serrated fortress. He disappears then reappears between openings in fractioned seconds. To his dismay, Alice still doesn't concede to his advance and maneuvers the blades in an effort to skewer him the moment he materializes into view. Castiel continues to push on, flickering into the growingly diminishing crevices. With every reemergence, he gains a new cut, and his celestial powers aren't as adept in healing his vessel anymore. Crimson blooms from each laceration, soaking his clothes in a grisly dye while the blades slice the fabric to ribbons.

Alice whips around, trying to follow his movements. An opening appears next to her, right in her blind spot. Castiel seizes the opportunity, materializing at her side in the next moment. He grasps Alice around the shoulders just as he feels an acute pinch in his back. But he doesn't let go.

Alice fights his hold, wailing towards the sky.

"Alice!" Castiel shouts, trying to pull her towards him.

A look of agony twists across her face and she tries to wrench away. The onyx sabers writhe in the background, but they don't attack. Castiel calls her name again. This time having more success in pulling her closer.

"Alice."

She cries out, but the sound no longer carries its earlier vigor. It's now weak and toiling. A few gasps stutter from her mouth, seemingly mixed with half-formed words.

With one more tug, Alice is thrown against him and the angel quickly locks his arms around her back. With no more ideas and his strength quickly draining away, all he can do is hold her there. Against Alice's minute struggles, Castiel simply touches his head to hers. "Alice," he whispers, "come back to me."

"I… nt… to… lose…"

"What?" Castiel asks as gently as he could.

"…I don't…want to lose…"

Castiel frowns. "Alice…"

"…You…"

The angel's eyes snap open, staring deep into the grief-stricken visage of the _Wikkōn._ His heart wrests. His left arm tightens around her while his right flies to her face. "Alice! I'm right here. You didn't lose me! I'm here with you! Right now!"

A fog seems to settle over Alice's psyche. Her expression morphs into a blank slate. Desperation claws at the angel and he no longer knows what to do. But he can't lose her! Not now! Not like this! In a fit of hopeless desperation, he crashes his lips against hers, anguishing over the need to touch her and praying that it may somehow bring her back.

An acute distortion vibrates through her energy. He can feel Alice freeze beneath him. Pulling back, he sees the look of emptiness is now replaced by a faint startle. Her lips part and a tremulous rasp expels.

"…Cass…?"

Hope and relief spark within him, and he covers her mouth in a kiss again.

The black energy recedes. The writhing blades shatter. The air slowly fades back to its original subdued nocturn. The crickets and the night animals recommence a hesitant chorus.

Alice starts to crumble within Castiel's arms, keening into him. His knees scrape against the green threads as he lays Alice down. Steadying her back, he pulls a hand to her face. A quiescent hush falls over the two. The black that previously engulfed Alice's eyes begins to pale, changing back to their original ivory whites. Her irises now only hold a hint of the wild crimson gleam. The inky black ripples still crawl across her skin, but they too are weaker. Castiel's chest seizes with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He swallows hard before he braves another word, terrified he might have imagined her response.

"I'm right here, Alice."

The angel's voice seems to inflict a physical reaction into the _Wikkōn's_ state. Alice blinks once, opening her eyes wide to take in the vision of the man before her. The effect is almost immediate. The residual darkness has all but disappeared. Although fatigue lines the edges of her eyes, they glow with a soft clarity. Her hair trails down her shoulders and onto the ground in rich ebony strands, returning from the color of feral steel.

Alice's lips quiver. A crease mars her brow. She's too afraid that what she sees and feels before her is a delusion of her own making. Tentatively, like a fawn taking its first step, Alice pulls her hand up to touch Castiel's face. As the warmth permeates her skin, her expression crumbles. "You're alive…"

Castiel grabs onto her hand, pressing it to his cheek. He pulls her closer, laying his forehead against hers once more. "I am…" He grits his teeth. "I promised you… that I'd stay… alive. I'm so sorry… I should have stayed next to you. I should never have left… This is my fault…" He feels Alice's shaking arms slide across his shoulders, pulling him closer. He feels the fear in them. Castiel immediately tightens his hold on her, nearly crushing her in his embrace.

"Cass…" Alice sobs into his ear. Its cadence sinks jagged splinters into his heart. Wetness touches his left cheek and he knows Alice is crying. "Please tell me this is real… Tell me this isn't a dream…"

The angel's jaw trembles. "You're not dreaming, Alice. This is real. I'm real. I'm here. I won't leave. Never again…" he chokes off. What can he do? How does he fix this?

"I saw you… it was so real… I saw you and Dean and Sam… you were all—"

"It was a trick! Just an illusion! Lucifer, he—" The anger at Lucifer's actions, at his own incompetence, grows so viscous it stifles his words.

Alice takes a shuddering breath, but her grip around his neck slacks. Castiel pulls back just enough to see her face. Is she starting to calm?

Alice's eyes are closed, her lashes still stained with residual tears. Her expression, however, only holds a mild strain. Her breathing has steadied as well. "Thank god…" she rasps out, "thank god…" Fatigue seems to capture the girl and her head slides from his shoulder and rolls back.

"Alice?"

She doesn't stir.

Alarm shoots through Castiel. "Alice!" he calls out. But the miasma is gone! All of the symptoms from her dark transformation has disappeared. She should be safe now!

He gives her a shake. There's no response.

Castiel stills, racking his brain. A voice in his head suggests Alice is only asleep. After all, she must be extremely depleted after the night's events, but the fear in his stomach flings the notion away. The angel starts to search her body. Her pulse is strong and there is no sign of the madness's return. Castiel dithers when he notices the odd tremor in her energy. He hones his senses onto the abnormality and dissects its appearance. It doesn't seem to be threatening Alice's light, but its presence sets his rationale on edge. It isn't until a minute later does his mind register the glow in the corner of his eye. His gaze flies to Alice's left wrist laying immobile at her side. The immortal mark etched in her skin gleams like a small flame and it's where the change in her energy seems most potent. As he continues to watch the mark, its glow begins to seep into the surrounding veins, lighting a path up her arm.

The angel is static. Is this cause for worry? The mark is heaven made, no matter what effect, it should always be centered on protecting its host. But what is it doing to her? He can't read the inflecting changes it's making to her energy, and this only mounts his anxiety.

 _~…_ _The necklace...! Use it to call Maggie and get her help…~_

His eyes zip to the chain at her neck. The red gemstone winks between the creases of her soiled shirt. He grabs the tiny jewel and calls out the guardian's name. Before he realizes, words he does not know escape his lips and billow into the air.

 _"_ _Inani Ay Elseer!"_

All grows quiet. Even the soft chorus of the nocturn animals tempers its song. At first, nothing happens. Castiel is torn between calling again and simply forgoing the necklace all together and spiriting her away to seek the Winchesters' help.

The small crimson jewel remains cold in his hand. Perhaps he only imagined a momentary pulse from the stone.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, angel."

Castiel whips around to the sound of Maggie's voice. He turns a frantic visage towards her, drawing Alice's body under her view. The fierce confidence in the woman's countenance immediately morphs into alarm.

"Maggie—help! It's Alice—I don't know what it's doing to her—" His words are so rushed, he wonders if they form any coherency at all.

Maggie falls to her knees in front of him, but it isn't the angel she's focused on. She reaches out a hand to touch Alice's shoulder. The moment she makes contact, she snatches her hand away. Maggie leaps back, looking as though she's been attacked. Her eyes blaze with an unknown terror, the emotion appearing quite out of place on her face.

Castiel stares at her in laboring confusion. Those are not the actions of a concerned friend. His gaze narrows into a glare. "What are you doing? Help her!"

The immortal glares right back. She pulls a hand towards her neck. Her fingers barely cover the glow of a mark burning at her throat. But Castiel doesn't care. He's too outraged by her response. Alice lays unconscious in his arms with god knows what affliction and yet her so-called friend now eyes her like a pariah. This is betrayal. But before the angel can growl at her, the woman pulls herself up and shakes herself of her earlier revulsion. The hesitation is still clear in her stance, but the look of worry seeps back into her gaze.

"What happened to her?"

Castiel swallows his rancor and answers her, but he can't help the snarl on his lips. "It was Lucifer... he did something to her…" He casts his gaze onto Alice's face and the anger crumbles from his visage. The light traveling through her veins has now extended to more than half her body. "She… became different…" His expression ages him. "What is happening to her…?"

There are a few beats of silence before he hears a sigh.

"I think I have a general idea…" The woman begins a cautious march toward her unconscious friend. She stops a little more than a meter away, still seeming too averse to a close proximity. She lowers to her knees once more and a pained look flits across her vision. Maggie examines her friend's form, eyes awash in a lambent glow. Her voice is soft and rueful as she speaks, "Lyss, you idiot. Why didn't you call me…" Her attention eventually drifts to Castiel, finally noticing the desperation in his eyes. She exhales through her nose.

"She'll be fine."

Relief floods through him like a tidal wave. His head falls forward in the momentum.

But the light in her veins… He jerks his gaze back up.

Maggie sees the question in his eyes and answers him before he can voice it. "When a _Wikkōn_ falls into depravity, the _Madness_ takes over everything, our sanity, our soul… our entire being." She grimaces at her own words. "And not a single one of us has ever come back from that… until now."

The angel's furrowed brows urge her to continue.

"The _Madness_ usually comes when we lose our _Amarvi_ …" Her eyes skewer him with a sharp and accusing look. "But _you're_ still alive. So, when Alice saw you again the _Madness_ must have weakened. The mark is trying to purge the remainder of it—" She grits her teeth, "and whatever it is Lucifer did to her, out of her system." Maggie reaches out and hovers a hand over Alice's body. "The spell will fade when the mark decides it's finished. We can only wait until then."

Castiel nods. He almost crumples forward. Knowing Alice is safe has released him from all the mounting weight and exhaustion crashes into him.

"But there's something you should prepare for." Maggie stands up and peers down at him with steel in her eyes. "A guardian was never supposed to _Fall_ , and you and I both know this was because of her feelings for _you._ The mark will do all it can to purge the impurities, anything that could trigger another turn." Her jaw tightens. "As long as she cares for you, that trigger will remain a constant shadow."

Castiel stares up at her, his eyes barreling into her own. "Are you saying she won't feel the same way about me?"

Maggie's shoulders lift and lower in a silent sigh. "I'm saying she might not remember you at all."

All words die in his throat. He looks back down to Alice's face, suddenly feeling numb.

"There's no magic in the world strong enough to alter the feelings for an _Amarvi_ , but we may quiet it if the memories are gone…" Maggie's voice turns soft. "If she can't remember you, she won't hurt for you. …I'm sorry, Castiel. But you should prepare yourself for the possibility."

The angel is silent. It's as though the universe has judged him and found him guilty, and the woman, whose eyes now regard him in part contempt part pity, is its messenger.

Castiel hangs his head. His eyes trace over Alice's features. Does he have a right to object? To feel anguished? How could he? Alice is alive. She'll be fine. It's a small price to pay in light of the mistakes he's made. He unclenches his jaw. The very motion seems to slice him. "I understand."

Another silent beat.

Maggie shifts her weight. She looks towards the forest with a complicated expression. "You should take her back to the Winchesters. She'll be safer there while the spell works. You look like you could use some rest as well."

Castiel nods mechanically. Does he have enough energy to fly them back? The wounds on his body have barely begun their healing process. With a grunt, he adjusts his hold on Alice and pushes to his feet.

"I can carry—"

"No." Castiel turns his back to the immortal, his action much colder than intended. He knows he should be more gracious, but he can't bear the pity. He doesn't want to be reminded of his weakness. Not now.

If Maggie took offense, she didn't voice it. "I'll meet you at the house then."

Moving as steadily as he could, Castiel expands his intangible wings and disappears with Alice.

~Dean's P.O.V.~

"They'll make it. They're fine…"

I swallow a sigh. Bobby has been repeating the same words at different intervals every now and then.

"They have to be…"

And with each repetition, he seems to believe his own words a little less.

I look away and bury half my face under my left hand. My right grips onto the armrest while one of my legs refuses to stop shaking. I hate this feeling; when I can't do anything, can't help anything. Waiting is the worst.

The anchorman sounds in the background like white noise. Nothing of importance is really being reported, and it's all there is to mask the depressing silence in the room. I briefly glance at his mundane face. So oblivious. I wonder what it feels like to not know, to be completely ignorant to all this crap. I imagine how normal everything and every day would feel to him.

But it's not. And I can't. Everything is _not_ normal. It's lost. All of it.

My eyes shift to Sam, wondering how he's coping. He's been increasingly quiet as the hours droned by. When Cass left to get Alice, he seemed quite sure that everything was gonna be fine. He'd been stubbornly optimistic these past few days. And though he would mutter an occasional agreement to Bobby's chant, there's a growing dark look in his eyes. I wonder if I have it too.

A gust rushes the room and I nearly jump out of my skin.

Cass appears, standing in the middle of the study holding Alice in his arms. They look like survivors from a horror movie. Blood covers the angel from head to toe, and his clothes (what's left of them anyways) barely obscure the multiple stab wounds on his body. It's as if someone used him as a target for dagger practice. It's a surprise he's still conscious with all that blood loss.

"Cass!" I leap from my chair to greet him.

Sam rises from his seat at the same time. "Are you all right?"

The angel barely seems to notice. He staggers a bit and I grab him by the shoulders to steady him. My eyes quickly land on Alice. Her skin is red from where Castiel's blood smeared. Her appearance from her confrontation with Lucifer flashes across my memory. The image is a stark contrast to the serene expression she has now. I'm glad she's back to her old self. The only difference is… she's glowing… or half of her is. The entire left side of her body is marked by a light that runs through her veins… and it seems to be growing.

"What's happening to Alice?" As I lift my eyes back to Cass I catch a grimace.

"She'll be fine," he says instead.

I give him a look, feeling doubtful. He ignores it.

"Why don't you set her down? We should probably get you looked at too." Sam's already moving the coffee table out of the way and the mess from the couch. Bobby wheels forward and takes a book or two off the cushions.

Sam offers to take Alice, but Cass rebuffs him. With deliberate steps, he marches to the couch and sets her down. The way he handles her, it's as though he thinks Alice would shatter at any moment. A tightness forms in my stomach. Just what the hell happened?

A knock from the front door cuts through the tension. For a moment, no one moves. The knock comes again.

Sam is the first to move, clearing his throat. "Um. I'll get it."

I glance at Bobby, who has an equally confused face. I switch to the angel, but he doesn't seem to be aware of his surroundings at all. I grab the shotgun leaning in the corner and hurry to the front door. I'm about to tell Sammy to hold off, but the door's already open. Dammit, Sammy! We're in the goddamn apocalypse! Maybe not open the door so freely? Due to Sam's stupid giant frame, I can't see the unexpected guest. My grip tenses around the barrel and handle.

"Maggie?"

I almost trip.

Sam notices me and steps back. Surprise is plastered on his face, but it's tinged with relief.

Maggie, the immortal _Wikkōn_ friend of Alice, stands by the door. She looks at me with a sincere smile. Behind her, the rising morning rays illuminate her form like a halo.

"Sorry to come unannounced. I'm glad the two of you are all right."

Despite the cold draft from the front door, the air feels warm. I watch her for a stunned moment. There's something about her being here that fills me with reprieve… and as I glance at my brother, I know I'm not the only one that feels it.

Maggie steps through the threshold and the mesh door slaps closed behind her. She isn't wearing her usual fancy dresses. Just a loose top and jeans. A handbag dangles against her left hip. The casual attire somehow makes her look even more attractive.

She takes brisk strides past us, knowing exactly what she's here for. Sam and I exchange puzzled looks before following her back to the study.

No one in the room seems to have moved since we left.

Maggie stops a few feet away from where Alice lies. I notice her take a slight step forward, but she retracts. I find the action odd, but I don't dwell on it.

"You don't need to watch over her like this. She's well on her way to recovery."

Cass doesn't move.

Bobby, Sam and I glance at each other. All I have are questions, but there's something about this atmosphere that stops me from speaking.

Maggie turns her head and sighs. She reaches out a hand to touch Castiel's shoulder.

There's a flash of movement and Cass is suddenly to the left of her. The expression on his face is pure hostility. I've never seen him so incensed before. He hovers protectively in front of Alice, Maggie's outstretched arm now locked in his grip.

"Don't touch me."

Utter confusion floods me. What's going on? Why's Castiel treating her like an enemy? What the hell happened?

Maggie's gaze flits towards me and she shakes her head. It's then that I realize I was walking towards them. Throughout the entire flurry, she's the only one unfazed. Even now, she wears a visage of calm solemnity. Turning her gaze back to the angel, she leans forward with a lowered voice. The next string of words leaving her lips is incomprehensible. From the inflection, it sounds like Enochian. There's anger in her voice, resonant but subdued. I try to gauge the meaning from her tone and expression.

Castiel visibly falters. The rage leaves his face and he drops her arm. The frown on Maggie's face softens and I see pity in her eyes. I recognize it immediately. I've seen people give me that look before.

Maggie steps back and looks down at her purse. She dips a hand into the sleeves and pulls out some kind of vial. She holds it out for Cass to take. "Drink this. It's a serum made from the Ywen Ëeulan, one of the plants salvaged from the Garden. It should give you enough of a boost to heal you."

Castiel seems reluctant. Maggie's eyes flit down to Alice. The movement, though minute, is indicative enough to propel the angel to take the vial. With an almost sour grimness, he pulls off the cork and downs the contents in a single gulp. Within seconds, light pours from the various wounds on his body, glaring in strength until I have to shield my eyes. When the light fades, Cass is back to his clean and primp self, as if whatever gruesome experience he faced never happened. A look of ambivalence crosses his face. The words "thank you" are on his tongue, but he can't bring himself to say it. I inwardly snort at how _human_ the behavior is.

Maggie barely seems to notice. Now that the angel's wounds are gone, she appears rather dismissive of his presence. "You should probably take her to one of the upstairs bedrooms and watch over her there. I'll check up on her in a little while."

Once again, without any acknowledgement to anyone, Cass scoops Alice up and disappears. There's a slight creak from upstairs, but nothing else to signal their presence.

Maggie lets out a long sigh. With the angel out of her sight, her body relaxes and she drops onto the now empty couch. She rubs the bridge of her nose.

"Maggie, is everything all right?" Sam asks. He's always quick to react, and his question is clever enough to sound like concern yet prompt information at the same time.

"I know you guys must be eager for answers, and I'll tell you what I know. But can you guys answer some questions of mine first?"

"Jo and Ellen. Are they safe?" Bobby's abrupt question steal's the room's attention. I'm glad he asked.

Maggie gives a confident nod. "Yes. They're both alive and fine. I took them to the best hospital in Switzerland. They're receiving the utmost care possible. You should be able to speak to Ellen over the phone in a few hours. They finished with Jo's surgery a while ago. She's still under and will be for a day longer."

A heavy weight lifts from our collective shoulders.

Sam bows his head. "We don't say this enough. Thank you, Maggie."

"Nonsense. You're Alice's friends. I wouldn't let her down like that. Answer my questions and we'll call it even."

At that, Sam and I pull up chairs and seat ourselves around her. "Ask away," I say.

Her expression turns serious. "I need to know exactly what Lucifer did to Alice. Did you see it?"

I glance toward Sam and he catches my gaze. Alice's current condition must have something to do with what happened.

Sam offers a complicated look. "We can't say we know for sure what happened. We can only tell you what we observed."

Maggie nods.

Sam rolls out the events in order, starting from Maggie's departure. When the story arrives upon Alice's meeting with Lucifer, the frown on her face steadily deepens. Sam's retelling is meticulous. There's no need for me to add anything so I stayed silent, paying attention to the faint variations in her expressions. When Sam's finished, Maggie's face is stone-like, but her eyes are so aflame they seem to be glowing. Moments pass before she finally speaks. A snarl is barely restrained from her lips.

"I see. That arrogant cur clearly hasn't learnt his lesson."

A small movement catches my eye and I see the faint shaking in her balled fists. I unconsciously lean back. The room seems to have grown a lot warmer.

"Maggie." Sam beckons for her attention again. "What's happening to Alice? What did Lucifer do to her?"

Regret spills across her face, pulling apart the earlier anger. Her head dips. "I should have returned right away. I should have fought with her…" She grits her teeth.

I look over to Sam, wondering if he could say anything to comfort her. His face is a worried blank. I turn to Bobby, but the answer's the same. I turn back to Alice's friend, deciding to try a hand at this comforting thing. "Uh… didn't you say Alice is on her way to recovery?"

The shaking in her fists stop. When she looks up at me, I shut my mouth. My first thought is I said something wrong, but the gleam in her eyes have faded. Her lips press into a grim line. That's not a good sign.

"Yes, Alice will recover. But the damage Lucifer has inflicted won't be easily erased. A _Wikkōn_ , much less a guardian, is never meant to _Turn._ "

Alice's blood red eyes and blackened skin flash through my memory. There's no need to explain what she means by _Turn._

"I don't know how much you know of our history, but when a _Wikkōn_ _Turns_ , they cannot be saved—"

"Then Alice—"

Maggie shakes her head, cutting off my interruption. "Alice's case is different in two ways. The _Madness_ comes when a _Wikkōn_ loses their loved ones. Lucifer made her _think_ you were dead. That was what set it off. Alice considers you all her family."

My heart clenches a bit.

"But you're clearly _alive._ " Maggie leans back and squares her shoulders. She turns to the side with a contemplative look. "The other is her _Mark._ The mark of fealty carved onto her wrist would prevent her from fully _Turning._ As we speak now, it's working to purge the remnants of the _Madness_ from her."

My brow twitches. My instincts are telling me there's something she's leaving out.

Maggie turns back to us, her eyes toward the ceiling. A look of surrender. "The _Madness_ is extremely corrosive. I can feel its energy just by standing next to her." She pulls a hand to her throat. "As I am, I can't touch her. My mark won't let me."

"But once her mark finishes getting rid of the madness, she'll be back to her old self again, right?" Sam urges.

Her gaze grows more wistful. "I don't know. Once the _Madness_ comes, it becomes intrinsically tied to who you are. Once the _Mark_ finishes, I don't know how much of Alice will be purged along with it."

My heart falls.

"She might not remember any of you when she wakes."

* * *

 **Holy Moly, guys! It's been a half a year since the last chapter! I am so sorry! Living in Korea has been a blast, but there are so many distractions! I reeeeeaaaally hope I can finish this story. LOLs, if North Korea doesn't decide to say F it and blow us all to hell. XD**

 **Please Read and Review!**


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